Not So Secret and Not So Interesting.

Author's Note: This post will be written without the use of a single exclamation mark. Because I'd rather be stuck as Paris Hilton's jail buddy for 23 days than violate the sacred code of exclamation over-use.

Thankyou everyone who left a comment yesterday; having your paranoia soothed by the words of friends and new faces, is enough to make even the whiniest of bloggers' day. As for my verdict? I don't know if I was brave to submit myself to go under scrutiny, or just plain stupid. All I do know, is that a few more positives would have been nice. (You know, it's now a full day later, and I'm still puzzled by the partying reference. Apparently I have more of a life than I realised.)

In actuality, I'm tired of the monotony of the 'same old' that keeps happening, day in and day out. I'm tired of feeling grouchy over so many of the things that are happening around me. And my most prominent whinge of all, is that I'm tired of feeling so bloody tired all the time.

But rather than focus on all the negatives that I've been surrounded by lately, I've chosen a positive to share. That positive just so happens to be a friend of mine. We haven't had the longest of relationships, but it is one that has had a lasting impact on me and that few people are aware of. We are in contact every day, and any time I'm without this friend I feel lost and just a little dead inside. Her name, er, well, she hasn't actually got a name, but I'm sure you can help me figure that small glitch out. Yes. My beacon of positivity is none other than my sassy Ipod Nano.

If you're still reading, I applaud you. It must mean you're hanging around for one of two things; you're a secret member of the exclamation mark police force and are waiting to observe any apparent breaches of policy, or you're wondering why on earth I would choose a skinny piece of metal as my secret friend. It's not to say I don't have some fan-bloody-tastic friends of the human variety, it's just that my Ipod is always there for me, unconditionally. (And she doesn't talk back either, but that's a whole other story.)

My Ipod listens thoughtfully while I hold conversations with myself inside my head. She has the uncanny ability to spit out perfect songs for every occasion and for every random mood I happen to be in. She doesn't have stupid expectations of me and she is quite happy for me to fast forward through the boring bits and get to the juicy ones. And, unlike most friends of the human variety, she's survived falling off a treadmill, flying through the air and being tossed across the room and thudding against the wall (all by accident, of course) and she has lived to tell the tale. If there's one thing that's positive, it's her will to keep on living.

From now on, I'm going to try and be just like her. More positive. (Now don't you think it is only fair for us to christen her with a suitable name?)