Roxilla

It’s been a weird week – after feeling not so cool at gym on Monday, I managed a Pilates class on Tuesday morning, only to wake up on Wednesday with that tell-tale sore throat and stuffy sinuses… and then this morning I woke up completed clogged up.

I hate having colds, and it’s even more annoying as I’ve finally gotten into a good routine with gym – the last thing I need is not being able to run or work out. Especially as I’ve been offered a free hour with a personal trainer, such a pain in the ass I tell ya!

At least I don’t have to be in an office, but that again is starting to worry me too – it’s almost mid-month and other than a few small freelance projects I have going on, I have not found any other work or a new job. And now I have car stuff to worry about as well as usual bills and rent, it’s just downright scary… and much as I am being positive and putting myself out there as much as possible, I can’t help but worry about the end of the month. Working from home again has been amazing, but I would give it all up for security. Better yet, I wish I could just find some good freelance contracts, but if it came to choosing between freelance and security, I’d take the security… at this age, I can’t live on dreams. That simple.

Today though, despite feeling like death overheated, I started doing something I should have done a hell of a long time ago… I started writing again. Properly. At first I went over my horror, and after doing some edits I suddenly realised that I had lost that story some time ago, and maybe it wasn’t meant to be told. Not now anyway. But there is another story that is easy to tell, because a lot of it I don’t have to make up. I’ve been wanting to tell this story since I was 20 years old, it’s been a long time coming and while it may never see the light of day, it is proving to be a huge comfort to me.

You see, not only is it liberating to get all this stuff out at last, but also it is reminding me who I used to be. Looking back at the old Rox is like looking at someone so familiar yet so alien… I was so sure of myself, even when I was insecure and full of issues. And I had such a strong sense of who I was – even more importantly, I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought, and no one messed with me. On the downside, I was an absolute terror who treated boys like shit and did whatever I liked. But ja, it’s always good to remember who you were.

I’m looking forward to writing my story, and just to make sure I don’t offend anyone I’ll have to throw in some fiction to make it less obvious, but still. A very hot guy I met a good few years ago laughed his ass off when I told him I would write my memoirs one day, just to prove that arrogant asshole that I could do it I’ll even give him a mention. No names of course, and he may only be integrated as a sideline, but will see.

And for Partner in Crime, I will dedicate this book to my thirsty bitches and even throw in a few lines from a certain Dre song.

Right now though, I need to shoot some more Sinex spray up my utterly blocked nose and then try and sleep. Hopefully my ears will stop ringing eventually, my entire head feels full of cotton wool. Ugh.