Its weird how nerves can effect the body. Although your exterior appears calm and collective, your interior is a gigantic mess. I thought at 22 you're meant to have more control over your body, know how it works and how to work it.
However, in reality this is not the case.
My palms are sweaty, spots are taking their toll and although my hands are not peeling yet, ill give them a week or two.
This is because it has finally got to crunch time in the Coussens calendar, and for every ounce of excitement at what the future holds there is a bucket of nerves and worries about the 'what ifs' of 2011.
In the hope of buckling down and getting this long awaited 'result' I decided to empty my room of anything remotely distracting and came up with a strict schedule. Sadly this means my room now resembles a cross between a prison with a very large bed and a beloved uni room hours before moving out.
More worryingly the countdown is the number of days before I can take on London and become a feature writer and not the lack of days I have left to complete a 9000 word essay.
In hindsight it has made the journalism career a "definite" instead of a "I would like to settle down and if I have a career that's a bonus."
This also goes hand-in-hand with "I probably shouldn't be admitting this in writing" and "on my head be it if a future employer reads this!" But there is certainly no doubt that what knocks you down only makes you stronger.
If this set back hadn't have happened I would still be working my way up through Kew and not flexing my muscles with what I really love.
The scariest thing is it created this drive that I never knew existed, the push to go out into the real world and try my hand at creativity.
So here it is, resolution number one: get my first paid byline by September 2011 (at the latest!)
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