Last week was the kind of week where you forget you are a young adult now and fall back into the mind-set of a teenager. The tantrums, the drama, and the pointless yet unavoidable angry feeling that you feel for no particular reason. I was writing notes for my coursework and kept writing whatever it was I was writing wrong, probably because I wasn’t paying attention, and I actually felt the blood boil inside me. I wanted to scream with frustration like you do when you are fourteen. The only difference is that it is more acceptable when you are fourteen because you are going through ‘a phase’ as every parent says. It was justifiable. Now? Not so much. Whether or not this week of feeling like a moody teenager was because I was on my period is debateable. I usually defy this norm. I don’t get this grouchy.
The fact of the matter is, comparing then to now, the teenage feeling has gone (thank god) and I have set myself a deadline to finish my coursework by Friday. Friday calls for an important day because my housemates and I are hosting a party, and the party is jungle themed. I cannot take credit for the wonderful proposition of this, it would be unfair to do so, as all credit goes to my housemate’s nephew, who had a jungle party for his first birthday. In fairness though, other than the theme, our party will not be like a one year old’s birthday party. Although, they do say that drunk people mimic babies. So, do with that what you will.
We don’t have parties often. They are a bit of an ordeal in my eyes. I am the person who turns up to parties two hours late or, if it is a best friend, two hours early, and generally flounce around thanking the lord that I am not the host because, god forbid, if I ever saw the day where I was the host, things would go terribly wrong. Well, I have been the host once or twice, and nothing has gotten out of hand as of yet, but that is probably because I have either relied on the other hosts to be the sensible ones, or I have been so host-like that I just had a god-awful time. But this time, I think things will be different. The main reason for this is because I will be dressed as a lion and call me stupid, but I have yet to experience anything bad happen when dressed as a lion. This might seem like an odd statement, but I am not exaggerating. I seem to end up with my face painted as a lion a lot. It’s never really an active decision, but it just seems to happen one way or another. And maybe it is some kind of subconscious knowledge from childhood that lions are brave and generally don’t give a fuck, but every time the lion face paint is slapped on, nothing goes wrong, nothing gets in my way, and everything goes swimmingly. So at least this time being host, if something does go wrong, I will probably be too lion-mannered to care.
the rafting 