Today I will mainly be sticking my fingers up at the concept of narrative.

I am doing a meme thing that Mouldy* tagged me for.

I AM twenty-four years old, a girl, a singer. In turns inspired and frustrated. Also way too self-analytical. I could stay on this question for a long time.

I WANT so much. I want to succeed, whatever that means.

I WISH I didn't worry so much.

I LOVE the feeling I get when I sing something I have written.

I FEAR that I am not brave enough to tackle things head on.

I HEAR music from the radio in the background, at the moment. My hearing is fine, I think. Normal. I am, however, one of those people who, at the beginning of a film, turns the volume up even before anything has been said. This is peculiar behaviour.

I WONDER what will happen to me, but I know that whatever happens to me will, with some exceptions, be dictated by my own actions.

I REGRET rarely. The only thing I regret is the time when, as an eighteen year old, I remained in Paris for two months longer than I should've done, on my own with hardly any friends and raging depression, because I was too ashamed to admit that I wanted to come home.

I DANCE crazily. When I'm in the mood. Sometimes I can keep going for hours and hours, provided I'm wearing the right shoes. I love that feeling.

I CRY out of frustration, or because I am overwhelmed.

I CONFUSE people sometimes, because I am totally relaxed with people I've just met. I repsond to people I don't know just like I do to people I do, and this is confusing to some people. Actually it confuses me sometimes, too. I'm an embarrassment to myself and to my friends and family (particularly if you add the crazy dancing).

I TAG everybody (such a cop-out, I know).

I did nothing this weekend. In a lovely way. I had the best pizza ever on Saturday. I haven't had take-away pizza since university, which was about two years ago, so it was much-anticipated and lived wholeheartedly up to expectations. The weekend was lovely.

Bec has gone to Portugal, so it's just the two of us in the flat this week. Well, three if you include the mouse, which I most certainly do. It obviously read my post on Friday as it has been scarce all weekend. It touches me that my humble e-scribblings have reached even the mouscular community, although I am slightly surprised that there have been no apologetic comments or gifts of cheese ordered from Amazon in my name.

I posted an ad on Gumtree last week to find musicians to work with, and have had some responses which I am going to follow up. I'm also trying to organise this weekend in terms of rehearsals for the concert in July. Plan for this week: Sort Life Out.

Also: Start Holiday Diet (probably eschewing pizza as a general rule of thumb.)

Also: Go to Topshop with my Topshop vouchers, which amount to about forty five quid. I have got to the stage where I perform the "I've got nothing to weeeeear" song every single morning, with a bridge of "why do I have no moneeeeeey?" and a few choruses of "how it sucks to be meeeeee" thrown in for good measure.

(A quick interlude while I remember: Pub - I wanted to say that I work about two seconds from the Dragon Bar. I would love to meet your friend! How would I do that?)

This has been a mixed up sort of a post.

I want to finish it by telling you something interesting, but interesting things are insisting upon being elusive to me today.

I will tell you that my eyelash and eyebrow tinting are working very well, and that I no longer feel like the lovechild of Frida Kahlo and Groucho Marx (looking forward to the Google hits on that one). I find that the eyelash tinting is good, but that I still wear mascara for volume and thickness of the lash. I like talking about these things in the singular, it makes me feel like I'm on a beauty programme ("mmm...yah... this colour really complements the shape of the lip/curve of the buttock/hue of the kidney...").

Enjoy your Tuesday, and try not to spend it dreaming of big, thick, pepperoni-riddled pizzas as I fear I might.

*http://thoughtsofmouldy.blogspot.com/