If someone wants to share something they have done it does not necessarily mean that they are showing off or are arrogant.

Personally, I love to play music. I also don't have the confidence to play music in front of others due to two main reasons:


  • I think that people will think I'm shit
  • I think that people will think that I believe I am amazing and that they should all praise me. 

Q: What do both of these reasons begin with?    A: "I think that people will think". 
I hate the fact that it's other people that are holding me back. I want to share what I'm doing with others rather than just play and sing to myself in my room. What is the point in doing something if it's only for myself, what if other people might actually enjoy it too? 


For these reasons I prefer to post the odd recordings online. These are in no way to beg for compliments, I just want to share what I'm doing with whoever wants to listen. That's the amazing thing about posting on the internet, if people want to check it out they can and if they don't then that is perfectly fine too.

Here is my soundcloud if you would fancy a listen, but of course if you don't then that is perfectly fine too.
It has always seemed alien to me that people actually leave the house and do things on a Sunday. For me, Sundays are for sleeping late, wearing cosy clothes and watching your favourite films with gallons of hot chocolate / tea. 

Weekdays are hectic. I know that for me juggling school, work, social life and other commitments can be a struggle. Saturdays are definitely for socialising because when else do you have time to socialise? But surely having a rest on a Sunday is the best way to prepare yourself for the week ahead. 

When I was little I hated Sundays because every week without fail I would be forced to stand out in the cold watching my brother play football. I remember one Christmas I received cosy Barbie socks and my parents said "they're for when you watch football in the cold". Egotistical young me just didn't understand why they forced me to go and why they wasted one of my Christmas presents on this ridiculous weekly ritual. Of course, every week I threw a tantrum and every week they ignored me, so to dying of frostbite I went every Sunday for roughly three or four years.

I think this weekly torture may be the cause of my desire to be warm and cosy every Sunday, in order to make up for the cold days I used to endure. 
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