Monday, August 31, 2009

A Redundant Day Already.

I'm so tired. I wish I could sleep. But I need to write. I don't know why. It's not as though it changes anything. But I sort of need to say things. And I don't know what exactly.

All these memories are flashing through my mind, none of them related or relevant, but all of reminding me of all the times I've ever felt awful about myself. I don't need this. Really, how do I get myself into these kinds of situations? It must be some deep-seated vengeance against myself. Or someone else's fault entirely. I hope so. I don't like to think that I'm responsible for me feeling like this. Fix my life, please, someone. Or speed up time. Or just keep chatting.

I forgot how much I adore conversations.

The easiest way to address the current state of my mind is this (and don't be too harsh in your judgements): What do you want, Emma?

Funny you should ask. Because I want to be not so tired right now. Or to be able to sleep. Not so wound up. I'm calm, but my head is aching. I want a good hair day and a good face day and for my three-in-the-morning fake tan job to not look disgustingly tangerine-coloured. Though that last part is probably asking a bit too much. I want the Debs to be tomorrow, please. Because I don't have the heart for it today. On the brightside, from now on, anything that gets ruined is probably my own fault. Which is a nice thing to be able to say, strangely. I'm in control of whether or not I enjoy something. For example, mid week cinema outings, etc. These erratic sentences will be the death of me...

Last night was nice.

What else do I want? Cash, please. Job soon, please. Days that last longer than twenty-four hours. Because I don't think I can fit everything in otherwise. Headache tablets. And razors. And Southern Comfort and Mickey Finn's (because Evan's a filthy little bitch) and an empty 7-Up bottle (for discretion) and a bottle of Coca Cola. Please.

Oh. Ever feel vulnerable? I have that. Take me somewhere new and cosy and give me a cup of tea and a cuddle and I'll go to sleep and everything will be fine tomorrow. Thank you very much.

God, these Life Lessons are pretty harsh.

Angry.

Because I'm just not able for any of this nonsense anymore. What did I ever do to deserve any of this? I'm not actually a bad person. Or a stupid person. I'm pretty, y'know, different. But the kind of 'different' that I'm happy enough to be.

I'm angry at you because I really don't think I ever deserved this. I never meant to hurt you and it never crossed my mind to get back at you. I was happy to be with you. To be near you, for fuck sake. But that was my mistake, obviously. I really thought it was me you wanted. But I could have been anyone. Just so you didn't feel so alone. The last two years of my life were pretty intense, but I'd never erase them. They were not wasted. Not as far as I'm concerned. I loved you. I pretty much still do. Just not in the same way. I'd been moving out of our situation in my head with quite a while, I think. I was devastated, of course I was. But I lived to tell the tale. And I always will. Because that's the type of person I am. I probably only survive these (emotionally) deadly encounters just so I can write about them like this at a later date. Which suits me just fine. Because at least I am surviving. I'm pretty excited about life. About my life.

It still amazes me that people are interested in what I have to say or write or think or whatever.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Kisses are nice. Ever notice that? Like, even on telly and that. They're just lovely. Smiley kisses especially. It's just all so beautiful and cute and love. Not lovely but love. I'm smiling and I technically don't have much of a reason to.

I got my hair done today. It was disgusting. The colour is grand; I'm blonder, like. Poor Lisa attempted a loose upstyle. She succeeded in turning me into a very nineties clichéd prom freak, with most of my hair scraped back into a tight bun and my fringe hanging drearily in front of my eyes. I thought I was going to get sick all over her face. But I didn't. I just went home and tried to brush it out. The sheer amount of hairspray she used. My hair is straw-like and dry now. Oh, how I hate that Lisa. Oh well. I'll do my hair myself on Monday. Literally all I wanted was for her to throw it up any ol' way to get the loose, girly, pretty look I was coveting to contrast with my harsh dress. The silly bitch. The little bitch. I'd have looked more normal this evening if I'd been dragged through a ditch backwards and someone had put a few ribbons in my hair. God, I hope Lisa doesn't scour the internet after each appointment looking for people's opinions on her treatment of their hair. She probably doesn't. But I know if I was her, I would. But that would be the narcissism etc. Ughh.

I had a nap after my dinner. Doesn't that sound like the cutest thing ever? I think it does. Makes me sound like a baby. In a nappy. I don't know; I'm weird. Nice nap though. Unfortunately, can't sleep now. Which is why I'm still awake this hour of the night composing utterly dull blogs. And filling in utterly time-wasting surveys. Why do I still copy and paste those? They bore me senseless at this stage. I dread to think what other people reckon if they even bother reading them anymore. Though it'd say more about them if they were still reading them at this stage than it would about me still filling them it.

That '(500) Days of Summer' film looks amazing. I really want to see it! I don't get the parentheses though...

I have an itchy foot. I always get itchy feet. Not in the metaphorical way, in the literal way. Very irritating.

Ever think you'd love a butler or a maid or something? I do. All the time. But I am pretty lazy. If I had a butler now, he'd make me some noodles, and quietly read poetry to me while I drift off to sleep. Doesn't that sound utterly amazing? Maybe it's just me. Hmm. He'd also scratch my feet.

I don't know what the plan is for tomorrow. Sort out school stuff, I suppose. And brown myself up a bit more. A daunting task. Monday will be epic. I never did change that corsage. I'll be ate. But fuck it. Diamonté is a girl's best friend? Anyway, pearls always remind me of... someone. Eww. Think I might do some German oral work tomorrow. (I must spend too much time talking to boys because I just got a kick out of the word 'oral' there. Or maybe I'm just a filthy bitch.) I have thirty yo-yos for the Debs. Sufficient? I've gotten shitfaced on a whole lot less. I've gone out with a fiver and come home with a fiver and still been legless. I should probably be ashamed of myself.

By the way, while I think of it, Alcohol Tip #1: Red wine and Coca Cola makes a nice pre-pub cocktail, but it messes with the bowels in a serious and rather disgusting way. You have been warned.

I tweet far too much. About nothing at all. Where did I read that about 40% of tweets are actually worthwhile? As in, not just drivel from the masses about tea and stuff. Whoever wrote it wasn't impressed that a whole 40% is important/ commercial stuff and, to be honest, neither am I. The whole point of Twitter is mindless rambling, surely? Brief rambling, but rambling all the same. I'm enjoying it. But probably over-indulging. But, listen, follow me anyway: http://twitter.com/emmanorrisbbz And get on board. You may as well.

Andrew Lawrence literally has the nicest smile in the world:



I don't know if I'm actually able for those conversations anymore. I thought that it was what I wanted but I'm really not so sure anymore.

I just lost the flow. Damn.

However, I quite liked the anger in this post. Maybe you didn't get it. Maybe I still sound like a miserable bitch. But that was actually me being angry at Lisa for essentially ruining what was supposed to be not only a good hair day, but an amazing hair day. Bitch. :)

I feel like I need to end on a good note. Weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's those blasted conversations. I wonder do people ever read my blog and know that I'm talking about them when I rant on about people vaguely and ambiguosly? I don't think I'd like to be reading about myself in somebody else's blog but not knowing for sure if it was me they were talking about. It'd feel so strange. And, I dunno, like as though they were broadcasting something about me that they couldn't even say to my face. But isn't that exactly what I do? :/

Comment the blog. I love comments.

Friday, August 28, 2009

First Day Of School.

Would my mother ever go get a life for herself? Can she literally not do anything by herself?

That song is actually turning my stomach. Sorry, but it is.

School was amazing. I've turned back into Emma 'The Spastic' Norris, however. This day has gone so fast. Ms Jones is still here! Alas, we no longer have Ms Grace for Careers. Ms Doherty with her agenda for History: hoorah! New room for Irish, new room for Maths. New Maths copy. How exciting.

I smell like sweat and school. Eww. I think I'm going to go wash and perhaps watch Jonathan Woss laterz. Does anyone know if it's still on? New series? Hiatus? What's the story, like?

Had Katie Mash 'round mine after school. She made herself a banana sandwich and I had a crisp sandwich and the nicest cup of tea. Unhealthy but rather epic all the same. Nom nom etc.

The timetable this year is none too shabby although we are lacking a double German, which is a bit dodgy. Double PE on a Tuesday. Could be worse, I suppose. Pretty disgusted about the Careers thing. Will have to track down Ms Grace in the corridors to interrogate her about the UCAS application. The juicy bitch up and left poor 6 Fiona just when we/ I needed her. Ughh. Pure torture last year and for what, like? A2 in Careers Project? Was ist der Point?

No school Monday. Debs! Wicked excited! Got all browned up there last night. You should have smelled me. I thought I was going to die in bed this morning. Honestly. Couldn't wait for a shower. I still smell though. But I am brown. My hands look a bit diseased though. Absolutely do not care and absolutely cannot wait for beverages and din-dins and getting dressed up and getting boho'd. I love life right now. I love this lack of seriousness. You have no idea. I wish I could tell you, really I do. It's just, I dunno, beautiful...

I've been thinking all day and Plan B and Plan C. Y'know. If the Pharmacy thing falls by the wayside (leaving me utterly heartbroken): I could risk Pharmaceutical Science in WIT. Also, I wouldn't mind German and Chemistry/ English teaching. I'd settle for that. But Pharmacy really is the thing.

Swine Flu. It's a pandemic, you know. So bizarre.

It's a nice evening. I am exhausted. Would utterly love to just climb into bed now. That could be quite beautiful. You'd think I'd been hard at work all day. I haven't even been hard at school. Did pretty much nothing all day. But, gahh, Ms Twohig is an awful slave-driver, Gos bless 'er.

History Special Topic: something sciencey? Hmm. Thou doth digress.

My room's a bit messy. I need to sort out stuff for school. Zero funds. Ughh.

I'm in such an amazing mood. I remember now why I lurrrrve academia. And why everyone in school thinks I'm nuts.

Life iz good. Yeah, boi.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

I'm Pretty Much Amazing.

And I really need to stop with the irrelevant post titles. Like, in fairness.

School tomorrow. Wicked excited. Sorting out my stuff now. Sort of.

Just got my tan done for Monday as well. Uber excited.

Literally nothing to blog about so... 'Bye.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Even More Excitement.

Life is going well. Boys don't matter.

I've been plotting. Debs plans and school plans and birthday plans are falling into place. I just hope that when push comes to shove - for example, on my birthday - people mind their own business.

My Dress:


My Shoes:


I can't wait!

Getting hair done Saturday. My life will be that bit more blonder. Excellent.

School Friday. How strange. Sixth Year. That's mental. Remember when we walked in in First Year all those years ago? We knew nothing of the Leaving Cert. Points System or Honours vs Pass or even boys. And now we own the fucking school. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking thrilled.

I just got an urge to tell you that I am completely over Ross O'Carroll-Kelly, Death Note, chocolate ice-cream and being a lazy bitch. New life, please?

Eighteen in exactly two weeks. Amazing. Ohhh. :)

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Dirty, Little Secrets.

Last night and today were lovely. Impossible to blog when I'm happy. Ughh. Apologies for this drivel. But, for me, it makes a nice change from all the nasty stuff that's been going on in my life and in my head. This won't last long, this bliss. But right now I'm happy. Everything else can fuck off.

Including Phlegm Boy. What a loser. What a little bitch...

Waterford today. Debs dress and shoes and a big red flower. Saw The Hangover. Utterly hilarious. Belly-aching kind of hilarious. BK Speak? What the fuck, like? Ooh, everything is quite beautiful right now.

I'm in bed, all warm and cosy after being out in that cold rain. South Park is on and I'm thinking that I'd quite like a cup of tea.

This is getting a bit much, this Blogger Bandwagon Fiasco. It's turning my stomach, really it is. I'm not suggesting for one minute that people are at all interested in my life and reading about my mundane melodramas, but I have always had this outlet in writing. And now metaphorical faeces have been smeared all over the whole fucking thing. Ughh. I'm a miserable little bitch though. But fuck sake.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Life Is Changing Quite Erratically.

To celebrate, an erratic blog post.

I'm finding it difficult to keep up with. Life is so bizarre sometimes. And these last few have been the strangest months of my life. So much has changed. And yet nothing at all. I think I like it.

Sixth Year on Friday. I'm excited. Sort of. New friends and a new outlook on life and new shoes and a new plan and something to aim towards. My new life.

The marks will fade. They always do. I'm not that brave, after all.

Don't give up now, ok?

It's amazing how fast those grey clouds subside when the place where you lay your head is tension-free and hilarious.

I can't wait for that other life that will one day manifest itself in secret in London. Everything will be amazing. I will be so happy. I'm happy now, I think, but that other life is basically everything.

Black Kids + Suzanne Vega + Lily Allen = A quite smitten Emma Norris.

I'm looking forward to getting my head down in the books. But I won't make any promises.

I can't wait to start work. Ughh. Need independence to some degree.

It really irks me that you think I won't survive. I fucking will survive. Just to prove you wrong. And I won't ever look back. I hope you get that. Eugh.

Ya know what I really like about Vista? The way ya can search fer programmes very quickly on the start menu. This is quite useful. You have my seal of approval, Microsoft.

Hmm. What kind of a day do we have in store for ourselves? I'm going to go wash now. And probably update further later on.

I like secrets.

A Strange Proposition.

But I don't even have to think twice. Maybe it's what I need.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

This is Me Asking for Help.

What kind of person do you wish you had in your life?
Someone utterly hilarious and cuddly and beautiful-smelling and generous and wonderful. Someone with a lot of time on their hands. Someone who wants to spend that time listening to me and minding me. For serial.

If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
In someone else's bed. Being looked after. With tea and cuddles.

Are you anything like you were last year at this point?
Deep down, I'm the exact fucking same. Even though I like to pretend otherwise.

God, I can't even think in a straight line. I've ruined everything with everyone. Who am I supposed to tell that I'm going utterly insane in the brain, without sounding like a little emo kid?

This is terrible, it really is, that I actually don't even care who reads this at this stage. I'm not forcing you to read it, and if I'm happy enough for everyone in the world and the Internet at large to know my business and my thoughts and all the rest, then off with me. I suppose.

This is such a strange situation. I honestly never thought I'd feel like this again. Everything is wrong. What the fuck and why the fuck.

Sort my fucking life out, please. Because I really am not able.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Boy.

Let's make no bones about it, the perfect boy for me would not only have to be utterly hilarious himself, but would also have to find me utterly hilarious. And very interesting. And smart.

I hate to say it, but he'd also want to have a sturdy grasp of the English language. Good spelling is oddly important to me.

Umm, no facial hair, please. Bar eyebrows. And eyelashes.

Plenty of free time on his hands.

Happy enough to dance with me in public.

A cider fan.

A fan of spoiling me silly.

Different.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Other People.

I wonder what other people do when they feel like this? I am always compelled to blog. But other people aren't. Surely I can't be the only person in the world to ever feel like this? No, just the only person I know strange enough in the head to brag about it. Brag about these moments of melancholy.

I'm calmer now. I sat down in the corner of my room for a while, thinking and wallowing and being awful. By all means, enquire about the details. I would just love someone to talk to, without having to ask their permission.

I've eaten chocolate and drank milk. I've moved onto my bed and turned on the telly and grown bored of Coronation Street after fifteen minutes. I'm compelled to blog.

I want someone new and neutral and understanding to talk to. To tell them everything. I'm forever indulging in telling people my life story but I forget to include the fact that I am a miserable bitch with more problems than brain cells. And as ambitious and deluded as they come.

Why does everything have to be so shit? Last night was so strange. I miss everything.

Suddenly.

Suddenly, I have remembered everything that was ever wrong with my life, ever. I actually cannot do anything right. Why did everything have to change or fade away or whatever it was that it did? This is so shit.

Bloody.

Things were so amazing yesterday. Utterly amazing. Everything was going right. I had secured a job, I ate chow mein with my very best friend, and I found that I won't have to return to those blasted psychiatry people 'til November. Yesterday was just amazing.

Today began dry-mouthéd. I was nervous. Today culminated, somehow, in me returning to pre-tablet state, pre-revelation state, pre-realising-that-everything-is-going-to-be-okay state. This is me down at that very same level that I reached way back in early 2007. This really is getting a bit much.

This next year will be the longest of my life. I really hope I'm able to stick it out. I'm really not as tough and strong and leathery as I like to tell myself I am.

I can't do anything. I'm not actually allowed to have a life. Or eat, apparently. Or have friends. Or a job. I can't do anything right. I'm trying so very hard to tiptoe across eggshells but it's not good enough.

I've only just noticed what a truly sour person I've become. Or maybe that's just the mood I'm in now. However, I can see this mood lasting for the next while...

Please let me go back in time. Please.

Perhaps.

Perhaps I don't actually need to tell everyone everything. Perhaps some things are my business and mine alone. I'm really not used to keeping things to myself though. This tendency for broadcasting my every thought and whim has been known to help me out of sticky situations (and, obviously, get me into them) and it gets things off my chest and prevents me from going completely and utterly bizarre in the brain. However, sometimes, it has to be said, it's probably a lot better to just shut up in certain situations. Such as this one. Say nothing, Emma. Say nothing. Nothing at all. Ever again.

Remain mysterious, perhaps? I honest to God wouldn't even know how to go about doing that. The Mystery Machine was never really my preferred mode of transport. I'm more inclined to be travelling via the Air-Your-Dirty-Laundry-in-Public-Mobile.

Love is a funny thing.

I'm not even cynical anymore. Which is strange. And so very unlike me. I am holding out for something amazing. No, not even amazing, just pleasant. Nothing wrong with that.

Something wrong with me, perhaps?

In such an amazing mood though.

I'd like to have my cake. And chow down on it too. What do ya reckon?

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A List of Things.

Dave, the Home of Witty Banter. Epicness in a tin.
Texting. Good. Depending on my mood, excellent.
Twitter. I like to text my musings to the Internet at large. Therefore, good.
Blog. Love it.
Aisling. Brilliant.
Amy. Amazing.
School. Hmm. Touch 'n' Go.
Coláiste next year, hopefully. Please please please please. Fingers crossed.
The ad on telly about the phone and waiting and that. Epic.
The rash on my face. Not good.
Suzanne Vega. Good.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Ohhh yes.

Hey, you know they're all the same.
You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
Live right now.
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.

Soundtrack to a Moment.



This song will, from now on, always remind me of Saturday night's absurd dancing in Clegg's and singing drunkenly into Johnny Fluh's face.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Another Hangover.

I should feel guilty. But I'm one of only two people who think so. Everyone else reckons I had every right.

In such a strange mood. Want to sleep but can't. Well, haven't tried. I would really adore a lengthy phone conversation with someone utterly random. I say 'random' but I don't mean 'random' at all.

I am happy.

But I never have anything to write about when I'm happy.

However, just so you know,

I fair got into O'Keeffe's last night.
Managed to get poluted on about a tenner, thanks to generous donations from Róisín and Joanne.
Got a tiny bit sick into a bowl @ Róisín's house. I blame the mayonnaise.
I was Twittering far too fucking much last night. What's my beef?
I also can't spell.
Johnny Fluh.
Ta fuck, ta fuck! Ta fuck, ta fuck!
Here for a short time, not a long time.
We're all friends here.
Apparently, I'm the ugly one. Fucking paedo.
I really can't spell. All these words look like they're spelled wrong but I actually can't tell for sure.
It means plenty to me.
Butterflies. How bizarre.
That naked man... LOLZ.
Secretly putting kinks in Katie's hair. This makes me psycho, apparently.
'Smidge'? Honestly, like. Slutting it up, Clonmel style.



Someone suggest some empowering break-up songs?

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Living the Dream.

I actually quite like my life right now.


Me and Amy 'Green Eye' Coe.

This is a picture from last Hallowe'en. When I learned how to change people's eye colour in photos, I practiced on Amy. I did this ages ago. Dunno why I'm even putting it up. To fill a space really.

An Early Morning Rant About Everything.

Some people. :@
How the fuck am I...?
Who knew I was that bad?
Depressing?
You have no friends.
Actually, neither do you.
Pure jealousy.
Fuck offffff, you psychopath.
Elephant Man sex? Oh, I dunno. :/
Into you in a big way, for some celestial reason. It could have been the sex dream, tbh.
Session on tonight, then? Pleeeeeeeease.
Need a bit of a break.
Fuck everything else.
Honestly, I'm better off.
Even though you had your reasons, and they were pretty valid and I hate to admit it, maybe we're both better off.
I'm not crying now.
Just about.
Darn it.
No more late night conversations that only result in me crying and not being able to concentrate on Jack Dee Live at the Apollo afterwards. That is not what I need.
Two years.
Onwards and upwards and that.
Bad day, i think.
Perhaps I've just got a bit of bad footing right now?
Speaking of feet, need to go buy new school shoes today. Sixth Year. Gosh. We grow up so fast.
This whole process would be a lot faster if you had never existed. And that is a fact. But a pretty redundant fact at that.
There is no such thing as freedom when it comes to these things. You have to be diplomatic and fair and considerete of other people's feelings even if you weren't very considerete of them all along. Which is a bit shit because all of a sudden you want to do everything. All the things that will embarrass you and them and everyone concerned. All in good fun, obviously. But you can't. Because it's not the done thing. Though it really should be. Perhaps we'd all be a bit tougher if people were tougher on us from day dot. Whatever happened to my leathery exterior? Could do with killing another cow.
What a strange sky we have today.
This feels weird. Uncomfortable weird. But not the kind of weird where you're missing and I need you right here beside me. Simply the kind of weird where I feel a bit guilty but I'm not sure if I should or not. Should I? I never meant to make you feel like that. I didn't realise I was making you feel like that. I didn't know I was that bad. Maybe I'm not? Tell me I'm not. Tell me it was just a chemical thing and we just didn't react in quite the most desirable way anymore. I could deal with that.
Not that it matters anymore really. I just have this thing about closure. Making sure every door behind me is closed and locked and there's no going back, so that I can move forward confidently and knowing that that is the direction in which I'm supposed to be heading. But when is it not? Forward is ideal.
Everything will be amazing again one day. This is just a lull. And were it not for the lulls, we'd never appreciate the amazing times. That's not my wisdom, by the way. That was Aisling's.
Thank you, Aisling, for always being there and always being amazing. ily.

I'm looking out the window for inspiration. There is none. I've seen it all before and it's never made a shred of difference. I have very little interest in writing about nature. I am only interested in writing about myself, my feelings, my thoughts, my highs, my lows and, occasionally, my friends. But that's the whole point. Of narcissism.

Remember when I used to want to be a writer? I really did. I wanted to write one book that someone somewhere would read. And it would mean something to them, in the same way that a certain book or two means a lot to me. That's what I wanted more than anything. Now I want money. Is this growing up or is this just gluttony?

Dreams are important though. And I doubt I'm the first person to ever tell you that. For me, the thoughts of going to college and making span new friends and having a span new life and an amazing job is what just about gets me through those stupid arguments with my mother. And, tbh, this kind of situation too. I won't let myself give up yet. Not without a fighting chance at that other life I have planned out for myself. Which probably sounds vaguely spastic and Dawson's Creek-voiceover. But I don't care. It's my life and it's now or never and all that..

You have consistently and confidently brought me down a peg every time I see you. But never in a good way. I was making progress. But you couldn't accept that and go. You had to edit the proceedings so that I looked foolish all over again. I wish you knew how you really made me feel sometimes. I wonder who you'd think got the better deal then?

I'm just being angry. In a good way. In a cleansing kind of way.

I have that dour feeling that today will be quite a long day spent waiting for seven o'clock to come around so that I can start getting ready. I have no life. I honestly don't care though.

That dream last night was strange. But it made perfect sense. I wish. If only. Alas. It would be utterly befitting though, if it came into being. Really, it would. And my memory barely even stretches back that far. We could reminisce.

I'm ahead of myself here. I'm consoling myself more than anything. I'm perfectly happy being on my own. And that is the God's honest truth. My life is pretty much the same. And I have no desire to kiss anyone.

Friday, August 14, 2009

All That Excitement.

And there is plenty of it at present. Looking forward to going out tomorrow night. Really. Black playsuit and playing around and scoring drinks off randomers. I think it will be a laugh. Bag a salt, lick a lemon, dash a Fairy Liquid!

Went for my interview today. Think I made a good impression but who knows? I was all clean and tidy and professional and smiley and that. Say a prayer for me though. Just in case.

Also bought this cup rack thing in the second-hand shop for a euro. Handy for my jewellery, like. Sanded it down all by myself but ended up persuading Mother to paint it for me. It looks super. Currently waiting for it to dry. Finding it difficult to wait to put all my jewellery on it, however. I am actually that childishly impatient.




Went to the library earlier to print out my CV and upon learning that I was just about to go for a job interview, Andrew waved away any notion of me paying him the 40c for the paper and ink used in the printing process. Bless him!

Also, while I was in the library, I got a book about Oscar Wilde, being in that slighty obnoxious and arrogantly poetic kind of mood myself lately. Good book it is, too.

Hmm. What else?

Did up this blog. Change and that. Onwards and upwards. Also cleared out my room the other day. It is practically void of any paraphernalia that might remind me of something that doesn't exist anymore. All that remains is a small photograph and two chocolate eggs and possibly a few bus tickets. Everything else is stored away out of sight in the wardobe or the box on top. Phew. Life goes on.

I'm happy. I think. I'm certainly getting there a lot faster than I ever imagined I would. I just hope I'm not tricking myself into it.

I'm happy but every second word that comes out of my mouth reminds me of some private joke we had. And I feel my stomach lurch.

I also realised that I can only write well when I'm pure miserable. And I'm not now. So this sounds shit.

But I have plenty to look forward to. And there are plenty more fish in the sea. Think I'll opt for a starfish next time.

More later.

Probably.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Life Goes On and All That..

I suppose it does. It feels like it's moving somewhere now. And I don't know if I even want it to. I'm terrified. My life is not supposed to be like this. We were a team. And now I'm running the show alone? This is just too scary for words.

I don't know whether to think about you non-stop and cry non-stop and hope that that speeds up this whole epoch of misery, or to avoid thinking about you altogether and slut it up countrywide and try to mask the pain and ignore it so that it goes away. It's safe to say that either way, I lose. This is so shit. I miss you so much. Ugh.

I tried to be brutal and get rid of everything of any kind of sentimental value but I honest to God couldn't. It felt like throwing away another big part of my life. All over again. So not able for that.

There are pros and there are cons but I can't even tell the difference. They all just mesh into one big blur of loss and, I don't know, thing's are crap.

However, Galway was amazing. So amazing. I really would love to go into the details but they're not very blog-friendly. In the sense that they're my business and very few other people's. Suffice it to say, however, that I'm feeling pretty darn full of myself, all the same.

Clonmel on Thursday. If I get into any pubs, it will be a miracle. Eighteen in less than a month though. In a community effort to cheer me up, please, everyone come out to Cleggs and the diko. And I know I'm letting down Bert by requesting that of everyone and I can't even bring myself to go out Saturday night for his. I suppose I just fear that someone will make some silly decision and ruin the night for someone else. Now that's cryptic. Maybe only I know what I mean. Ughh.

Who knows though? I could work up the energy and the confidence to unleash myself upon the Main Street at the weekend and it could all be fun and games and I could have a heart to heart with everyone, Bert's woman friend included, and dance my tiny brain tired. I'd have to recruit an army in the meantime though, and Amy's going to Engerland Wednesday so that's my best men gone already.

Ever feel completely and utterly alone? This is not a feeling I'm very familiar with. I was basically part of a very good two-person operation for the last two years, and the last year in particular. It was just so amazing. This is shit. This right here is just a bit numb and bland and other such dull adjectives.

I'd give anything to speed up time. I'd move on, I promise I would. But I just can't stand this inertia and political correctness and this shitty feeling of missing you so much.

I want to break every rule in the book. I want to not miss you or love you or anything. God, this is just awful.

:(

Thursday, August 06, 2009

.

Someone make this whole process speed up. Please.

Y'know, I never really saw it coming. And yet I did.

I need a hug.

If everything is going to be the same, why am I crying? Why do I miss you so much already?

Fuck keeping this blog vague. Fuck people knowing my innermost thoughts. I don't care anymore anyway. I just want to go back six months and do everything over. And even if it still ended up like this, I wouldn't care. Because I would have had an extra six months with you. Time that I probably don't deserve.

I really don't care who reads this anymore. Everyone apparently thinks I'm mental and psycho and weird and all the rest anyway. And harmless. That was another one. What the fuck does that even mean? Does it mean that I have no backbone? That I wouldn't hurt a fly, perhaps? I've hurt many a fly. And with my newly-accustomed (and not very much appreciated) freedom, I'll hurt many more flies. And boys as well. Because they're horrible. But I don't mean that, I don't mean that at all. Not even about you. If you were horrible, this wouldn't hurt so much. Ughh. I love you. I wish I didn't. I'm sorry, but I wish I didn't.

All Bebo needed from me was a removal of the relationship status. Good thing I'm not much of an exhibitionist putting Emma lvs Dillon left, right and center all over my Bebo page. However, I have all over my life. And that's going to take a fair bit of Tippex in order for me to resume academia normally and without a salty, wet face.

I wonder when people will know? Ha. I wonder if they'll even care. Ughh, as if I care that they care. What difference would it make anyway? I'd like a hug, however. If it comes down to it, and someone's offering, I really would like a lengthy hug. That'd be beautiful. That'd be just swell.

I don't want to say anything positive. Not yet. Right now I just want to be, y'know?

I'm going to miss everything.

I'll end up deleting this in a few hours. Fuck it.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

I Beg Your Pardon.

Last night's post isn't about what it might seem like it's about. I read it back today and it even seemed to me like it was about something entirely more romantic. It wasn't. Oh, if you only knew the half of it.

But my finger's on the mend, I think. My arm is not. I feel so stupid. And it's just my luck that the sun is shining today. Ugh. Well, it's not really because I have nowhere to go anyway... Well, I do. But y'know... The mood I'm in. Anti-social, depressed, depressing. I will not be good company today. For myself or anyone else.

Actually, I think my finger might be infected. I have no plasters, however.

I'm going to go wash myself.

Feedback? Support? Plz? x

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Stop Me.

I never meant to cut my finger. I never meant to be like this or do any of this. Honestly, I never wanted it to come to this. But I always knew it would. Well, it was nice knowing you.
In my pink Barbie doll skirt and my bloody tissue and hoping to go to college but who knows? I just hope everything works out for everyone but life really is hard, isn’t it? :/

It was nice while it lasted, all of this. But I’m not the only one. And, in any case, there are plenty more Emmas in the sea. You’ll live.
Even if I don’t.
So not able for this. Need something or someone. I don’t know. Help?

Monday, August 03, 2009

Errrthing.

I guess life is just dandy at the moment. Somehow.

I should be asleep.


Last Friday Night. Hilarity.
Boat Beads! Not walking from A to B, but dancing from A to B. Being in the bathroom with Amy♥. Emma, where's your Bulmers? No, Aisling, it's not grand! Aisling, tell me truth: just say no. Oh, it's all too funny...

Ooh, plans. My birthday, going to London on the boat, college, Sixth Year, adventures, blondeness, Debs. In no particular order. I love it all.

How do I never have anything to write about?

Angela's Ashes is on.

Honestly, I don't really feel like going to sleep. But yet I do. Hmm.

Eighteen in just over a month. It's not even funny how restless I am.

Horrible dreams last night. This old man beat me up. Beat me senseless, he did. I had a black eye. But then Dillon skinned him alive and he had no hands. And Mark hugged me. I don't think I had any hands either. Weird.

Nerd Glasses FTW. Srsly.

Oh, I love being Irish, by the way.

Life is a barrel of laughs right now. Don't ever forget this moment. x