Friday, October 30, 2009

Hallowe’en Hopefully.

Tomorrow night I’m going to dress as a nerd and drink lots of Southern Comfort. Hoorah!

I got a nice cardigan and jumper today. And I went to SVP.And I had a sort of good hair day and face day and clothes day. I’m off to watch Hot Rod and consume icecream now and, you know, think about how nice life is today. This is me feeling genuinely happy, by the way. Innit that it’s swell? I pretty much love everything right now.

Fact #1: I use the word ‘fact’ too much. You’d think I was the most factual person in the world and never embellish or exaggerate. Haw haw haw.

Eeeeeeeeeee Ennnnnnn. x

PS. This is a lovely website.

Thursday, October 29, 2009


And all the amazing stories I’ve ever read.
Photos of me and my friends.
Laughing all day long in school.
That new programme on E4, School of Comedy. Quite hilarious.
Hot chocolate.
Nice boys, of any description.
’Strange and Beautiful’. (Click to listen to it, I beg of you.)
My best friends.

Ooh La La Depression.

I’m not sure whether I should be blogging about this kind of thing. But if you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ve probably been reading between the lines and you’ve probably already guessed that there’s something amiss in the contents of my brain. This is me admitting it, I suppose…
And yet I can’t actually spell it out. I feel pretentious enough with this blog post. But, you know, I sort of need to say it. Even if in a roundabout way. Judge if you want. You’re going to anyway.
Yesterday things came to a head. You know when they’re going to and then they do? It’s a sort of relief.
I actually can’t say it. I’m rarely lost for words so what is this new lack of eloquence?
I have had this ‘illness’ for two and a half years and it’s not getting any easier. But there are days when it’s not even an issue. It doesn’t cross my mind at all. Things are hilarious and life is good and this is just something I have to deal with. And God bless Prozac because it certainly makes dealing with it a lot easier most days.

But there are still terrible days. Terrible port-fuelled nights of melancholy and feeling ambivalent towards the whole life thing. I cry too much. Far too much. I am my own worst enemy. I’m supposed to be giving myself some sort of fighting chance at winning at life, but I’m quick to criticise myself, and quick to give up. But I wouldn’t let my best friend do the same things I do.
Are the quick and bad decisions I make a result of the depression? Is my self-sabotaging nature a by-product of the chemical imbalance? I don’t know much about it at all. I’m not sure if some of it is depression and other bits are just Emma Norris. I don’t know. It’s all very strange.

Last night was lovely. Last night was the perfect end to an exhausting day. Aisling made me beans on toast and the most perfect cup of tea while I showered and washed my silly arm. When Kate came, I made hot chocolate and we ate Roses and listened to Dean Martin. It was perfect. It might not sound amazing but it meant the world to me. I love my friends and I know they love me and they’re what I’m most grateful for in the whole wide world.
I’m also extremely grateful for JG and his oh-so-quotable words of wisdom and his confidence in me.

You read people’s blogs and you forget that they have real, ordinary lives outside of what they choose for people to read. You forget they have real life friends. Mine mean everything to me. More and more, I’m realising just how much I adore them, how much I need them, and the extent I’d go to to make them happy. I wish there were the words. I wish you knew my friends. You’d love them too.

I’m not sure what the point of this post was, exactly. Hmm.

An Exhausting Day.

so this is the grand finale
the crescendo of demise
this is the happy ending
where the bad guy goes down and dies
this is the end
with me on my knees and wondering why?
cross my heart, hope to die
its my own cheating heart that makes me cry

I’d like to blog about my day, really I would. It was important. It was strange. It wasn’t sad or anything – not really – but it was strange. However, I am emotionally drained and it is time for sleep.

I have the best friends. I appreciate them more than they’ll ever know and a lot more than I’ll ever be able to express on the interweb. Bless ‘em, they’re amazing. I love them.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

A Miserable Day.

I woke up this morning after a strange dream involving me pulling four brothers around Carrick on a wagon thing (Dennis the Menace red thing, sort of…). On our journey, we ended up in… Well, I’m not going to say where we ended up or who we met, but it meant that I woke up feeling miserable and nostalgic and on the brink of tears. And then I cried. I hate memories. I hate that things happened before and they’re no longer happening. I hate how sometimes I wake up really early in the morning and go to the bathroom or whatever and come back into my room and just get this feeling while looking at my bed in the dim light of early morning and remember. Remember things I’d pay to forget. Is this another of those terribly important Life Lessons and I just have to wait out this terrible remembering thing? One day life will be amazing all over again and I won’t be guilt-ridden and miserable and penniless.

Some people are a lot worse off. I don’t know how good I have it. Things could be worse, of course they could. But I want company and money and parties. And since I don’t have those, my one track mind is telling me that I have nothing. And I’m practically illiterate. And I have an itchy leg. Since, I dunno, the other day. As if things weren’t bad enough, ja?

The Internet is being cumbersome lately. Slow and awkward and unresponsive. I know the feeling.

I also dreamt last night about this dress I saw in a charity shop that I’d apparently paid a tenner to get altered and then never purchased. It was a really nice dress too… A kind of charcoal navy-ish colour. And silky. Sort of like the dress my sister has but probably not as nice, since it was only in my head and I’m not that imaginative. My sister’s dress is beautiful. I think it cost three hundred yo-yo’s though. Which is fair enough if you have three hundred yo-yos stuffed in your pocket (or Louis Vuitton purse), but I don’t (and possibly/ probably never will) so, to me, it just seems a very obscene amount to pay for a dress. But whatevs.

How can I make today wonderful? I’m thinking titration questions, History special topic, revision of Renaissance art, lengthy shower, tracksuit and company. I really want company. I can’t get enough of people lately. I want my friends around. Please.

All this thinking about last night’s dreams and me wanting company has made me feel twice as miserable as when I started this post. Damn.

Coffee and titration questions, yes? Someone say something amazing.

And hug me. Thank you. And buy me €20 credit. And a new dress. And a grey coat. And take me to a party and get me suitably shitfaced. Take advantage of me if you want (or take my limited funds), I don’t care: just ensure that I am inebriated to the point of slurred speech (or obnoxiously loud speech, as is my tendency), and falling over so many times that I bang my head and get concussion and forget everything. Don’t let me cry. If I start acting up in that regard, put me out in the garden or send me walking home. I’ll honestly be fine, I’m just a miserable bitch.

I sort of miss JF. Which is bizarre. Considering I never really knew you at all. I never knew a thing about you. Maybe I just miss the idea of you.

I also miss Ciarán.

And everyone else. I miss everyone. I miss two years ago. Which is strange because two years ago I was a lot further from happiness than I am now. But, I don’t know, it was nice. There was a sort of community. Even if it wasn’t a very genuine or pleasant community. I don’t know. I really don’t.

I miss three years ago when everything was so simple. I miss that brown jacket and those pink shoes and our sleepovers and chicken curry and those exploits. I miss the you that you were. It’s crazy. It’s sort of funny that we don’t even talk anymore. It’s not funny, it’s strange. It’s sad.

Ughh. Everything is sad today. One of those days, innit?

Company, please.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Mundane Monday.

I hate Bank Holidays. I hate having no credit and running low on free (but disgustingly limited) web texts. I hate not being interested in studying Irish. I hate not being adventurous enough. I hate having no one to adventure with. I hate looking like this. I hate you and your stupid pink skin and your thick eyebrows and your inability to engage in this situation that you put yourself in. And you can’t do your make-up properly. You’re very ugly. I used to think you were such fun and back then you were pretty. But now you’re ugly and smelly.

I hate how passive-aggressive I am. I hate all the music that’s on the music channels these days. I hate how Daria isn’t on anymore. I hate how I don’t read enough (or at all) anymore. I hate this country and this culture and this stupid town.

I hate feeling this sickly feeling in my stomach. I hate missing you daily. I hate that we don’t talk anymore. I hate how much I want to talk to you. I hate other people and their riches. I hate my feet and my eyebrows. I hate the distance. Really, I do hate the distance.

As you can guess, I’m in a pretty crappy mood. Someone please call over unannounced for tea. Please.

a nice weekend.

More of the same again soon, please.

Relationships are weird. Not just with boys, but with friends and family and people you hardly know as well. They’re weird and complex and very fragile. I’m much too overt (apparently) to treat them with any of their due care. If they succeed at all, it’s a pure fluke. But I am grateful for flukes.

This weekend was nice. It was comprised of cleanliness, X Factor, (Super) Splits and various other nice things like that. Completely unbloggable. But lovely.

Called ‘round to Kate’s house last night. Didn’t stop laughing once. I really do adore Kitty O’D. The girl really does make my day most days.

Currently, I should be adhering to my study plan but the weather is miserable and my mood is mirroring it. Ughh. I want company. Anyone?

Friday, October 23, 2009

Skins and School and Hair.

I really can’t wait for the fourth series of Skins. If I knew the date, I’d be counting down the days. January sometime? I wish it was sooner. Something to look forward to of a Friday night. (I know it’s on Thursday nights but I normally tape it and watch it with Aisling the following night. Bonding time. Lovely way to wind down the school week. :) ) I really loved the third series. That Effy and Freddie and Cook love triangle was adorable and infuriating. All of ‘em hotcakes then, y’know… 

I hear through the vine they’re bringing Skins to America and getting Yankland children involved (not children, but you know what I mean). I am cynical now. MTV are doing it. Dunno when it’ll be out though. Benefit of the doubt and that…

Double Art this morning. Excellent progress! Almost finished my painting and decided that I’m going to do abstract still life using mixed media in the actual exam. Isn’t that the most exciting thing you’ve ever heard in your life? It made me happy, having that sort of focus. I really love how my current still life thing is turning out. It’s definitely my favourite out of everything we’ve done so far for the LC. I’m not saying it’s any good or anything – I’m just saying that I really do adore it. It’s all pinks and yellows and newspaper. Mmm.

Had that Careers interview after Art and I was actually so surprised at how helpful Ms Whelan was. And she didn’t wink at me at all. It was a real success. (: It made me think of loads of other careers and courses that I really hadn’t considered at all, like Marketing and Politics and Public Relations and Communications. I’m actually so excited at the thoughts of researching ‘em and stuff. I now love Ms Whelan. She’s actually rather funny: she does lah de dah D4 accents. What a good girl.

Got my hair done by the lovely Olive and I genuinely have no complaints. Well, I haven’t really seen my hair in daylight yet, but I’m sure it couldn’t be that horrific. There’s small (tiny, really) bits of brown in it so that it’s no longer yellow (I hope). My fringe is a bit dodgy but I’ll sort that out myself in the morning. In fairness to her, Olive is some woman for the communicating, unlike lots of other hairdressers. They never seem to understand what you want done to your hair. Why is that? Anyway, apart from sorting out my locks, Olive and I had a lengthy chat about X Factor, which is always nice.

Which reminds me, can’t wait for X Factor tomorrow night. Yay.

My nails are painted yellow.

I’m fearful of how the weekend will pan out. :/

Off to beddy bye bye’s, I think.

What a crap blog post… My apologies.


Domestic Emma.

I’m currently in the process of cooking. Well, no, I’m not; the chicken is currently in the process of cooking itself in the saucepan of boiling water in which I placed it. This is me being fantastically womanly and domestic and stuff, by the way. Cooking (or attempting to cook) chicken curry for me and Mutti. Pray that I don’t poison the poor woman, yeah? Cooking really is not where my talents lie. Beans on toast, noodles and crisp sandwiches would suit me fine on a daily basis. I do hope to wed a chef though…

My sister suggested boiling the chicken. I can’t ring her for customer support though ‘cause she’s on holiers at the moment. Pretty sure it’s Port Aventura. What a (k)nob…

It’s a pretty basic meal anyway. Or it will be, if it works out. It’s not going to look much like the above photographic representation, I’m guessing. We’re talking Uncle Ben’s boil-in-a-bag rice; we’re talking a packet of Knorr Medium Curry Sauce; we’re talking two salmonella-ridden chicken fillets.

Domesticity really don’t suit me.

I’ll let you know how we get on anyway. Unless we die. Then I won’t.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Roll on Midterm, Please…

Got CAO forms today. That can’t be healthy, can it? It’s baffling that thirteen years (plus the guts of another one to go) lead you to this point: filling out a form. Just so you can resume the whole education thing. Weird. Weird weird. Anyway, I’m not so sure about UCAS anymore. I have a vocational interview in the morning. I’m apathetic but I do get to miss Chemistry so, you know, that’s a positive. I’m pretty much set on Journalism in DCU now but I’m liable to change my mind arís is arís. Ughh. Oh well. First day of February, you say? Could be worse. Some people are sweating already but I’m convinced things’ll work out one way or another. Though that doesn’t stop me worrying about hands-down failing my Leaving Cert. Which will happen. FACT.

Speaking of Chemistry, anyway: Henry’s going to help me over the midterm. He’s some man for the explaining, I’ll tell you that much. And he listens to me (or appears to be listening to me) while I mutter the principles of organic chemistry wildly to myself. (Something like that; I’m not completely delusional.) I don’t remember the last time I did Chemistry homework, apart from writing up that experiment. That reminds me, must get a lend of Henry’s experiment copy off him so I can plunder his reports.

I like how my painting for art is turning out, if anyone’s interested to know. It’s very pink and yellow and primary school (crepe paper, etc.). Ooh, that test on Impressionism last week… Fair got A2. Happy out. (:
My spots are clearing up nicely. TMI? Or not enough?

Oh, roll on the weekend, please. This has been the longest week of my life. Probably. The longest week so far this school year anyway. And I still have another day to go. Ughh. Half day really, I suppose. Which is just as well. No History test for me. By rights, I should be ashamed of myself. But I can’t be. Because I’m much too concerned with blondeness and yellow nails and the prospects of a pleasant weekend. Yup.

Trying to think of more news…

Debs! As I am on le Debs Committee (and am therefore very fancy), I should announce that our Debs’ll prolly be in Dungarvan. As Dungarvan is the cheapest. Yay for poverty! I do hear good things about the hotel though… Can’t wait. Also have to find some way of getting myself invited to the Mon Debs. Suggestions? Who’s an easy target then?

Green Schools meeting today as well. I discovered two very important facts:

1. I shake hands with Third Years. God, I’m weird.
2. Second Years don’t appreciate being asked if they need any help drawing a picture of a bin.

Gingernut biscuits. I have developed a bizarre habit of sharing my biccies at lunchtime. With everyone. Is this too weird to be allowed? Sometimes I think I’m too weird to be allowed.

I’ve planned my midterm break in terms of studying and revising. I’ve been highlighted things. I am committed to the cause, etc.

Don’t think I have anything else to say. How unfortunate. Off to the land of nod. (I’m lying: I’m off to find hilarious telly to lull me to sleep.) I shall leave you with two pieces of, I dunno, art, I suppose…

Art the First:

I adore this song at the moment, thanks to Hazel’s fine influence. Cailín is fearr. Such a pretty song. (:

Art the Second:

Amy genuinely suggested that I put this on my blog. Because ‘ya know the way you put pictures with writing on yer blog?’ Seriously. I was like, go on then, for the howl… And this is dedicated to Amy.

Anyway, good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Further School-Related Waffle.

I’m so emotional lately. Not in a crying way (thank God), but in a really sappy way (curse you, Allah!). Weird. All, like, lovey-dovey in my head. Weird weird. Yes yes.

Four minutes past ten. I’m finally finished those gosh darned Art descriptions. Not even all of them. Four out of five (ain’t bad). Cézanne. Ughh. What a knob. The man cannot draw. Apologies to all you adoring Post-Impressionist fans out there, but he cannot draw or paint or understand perspective. Apparently his complete disregard for the principles behind good art mean he’s ‘innovative’ and exciting and other wonderful things. But I disagree. Look at this, in fairness: 

No way is that chair supposed to be all the way up there, I don’t care what anyone says. There is no way you can be looking front on at that basket and the bits of fruit and yet be looking down from a great height at that chair. No way, José. Cézanne, you are a knob. Also, one of your still lives with Cupid makes that lovely little cherub look like he’s vomiting, Exorcist-style. Poor little cherub. Cézanne, you have ruined my life. Or, at the very least, my Tuesday evening.

Things are bad when I post a blog to give out about Paul Cézanne… Get a life, Emma.

Off to King Lear tomorrow. On screen. We be high-tech an’ stuff. I should go to sleep soon. Will so not be able to sit through two and a half hours of Shakespearean English at ten in the morning otherwise.

I have never been so bored of a school night in my life (probably). I desperately want a real life conversation.

Getting hair done Friday. What’ll happen is this: she’ll ruin my hair, poor Olive. (Yes, Lisa is just a blurry bit of my past. I’ve moved on to sexy, apparently quite nice Olive.) Olive will ruin my hair because that’s what hairdressers do to my hair. She’ll ruin my hair and I won’t complain and I’ll get used to it in a few days and alter my fringe along the way. That is what happens. That is not the case for my mother who weeps for about a week every single time she gets her hair cut. Every single time. It baffles me, really it does.

Anyway, I’ll be blonde, rather than yellow (thank you, Mother, for your heart-warming honesty), and I’ll be split-end free. Which is very exciting. Full fringe versus side fringe, though? The question on everyone’s lips.

First time in quite a while that I don’t have anything to worry about. (Though obviously I’m still worrying. About everything. You name it. Seriously. Wound up to the fucking last. Story of my life.)

That mid-term break would seriously want to hurry up. I know I’m not really doing very much in school or out of school at the moment, but the tension is killing me. So much to do and I just can’t seem to get started. Help? :/

I’m actually rather sleepy now, even though I was in bed ‘til well after twelve today. I need to cop myself on. I’m wide awake when it’s time to go to bed, and pretty much almost narcoleptic the rest of the time. Sleeping tablets for the nighttimes and Berocca for the daytimes? Sounds tempting, though not very healthy. In any case, I’m on far too many tablets as it is. I am remembering to take them lately too, which is an achievement. I should get, like, five thousand experience for that alone, yeah?

Is it weird that I sort of want braces? Not on my teeth, like. The trouser ones.

I seriously need fresh air. I don’t even know what I’m waffling on about at this stage.

And this post is probably riddled in trite phrases and clichés as well as poor grammar and a general pointlessness. Oh well.

So long! (Agus go raibh maith agat don iasc go leor.)

Human Contact.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, why I happen to crave affection and closeness. It’s not that I’m normally otherwise inclined, it’s… I don’t know. I used to be very dependant on having people hug me and take care of me, but less so in the last few months. Independence. Moving onwards and upwards. A lot less vulnerable than I once was.

I tend to throw my arms around people in a very casual, I-just-happen-to-be-leaning-on-you kind of way. Very blasé and probably not very affectionate. I also kiss a lot. I kiss people on their heads. Why, I don’t know.

Maybe it’s because I’m the one doing the kissing and the arms all over the place thing, that I feel somewhat left out of the equation. I detach myself from feeling completely close to people. I don’t think I ever used to be like that. My whole heart and soul was in every hug and that was rarely a good thing. And then it was the other extreme. Because I only ever seem to deal in extremities.

And what now? Am I back to actually being that needy? Probably not. But I’d give anything for a cuddle now.

That’s probably one of the big flaws in the human design – needing other people. Needing someone else’s presence. And if I had to choose now, it’d be AC. And I really wish it was. What I wouldn’t give right now for closeness and cuddles and having someone there.

This is a strange feeling: it’s not really sadness. It’s sort of a universal feeling. Sort of. In the sense that I want to feel part of the universe. Or something.

Human contact soon, please. Please.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Average School-day Update.

I’ve been rather good today and completed lots of homework. Sort of. A lot by my standards. And a lot for a Monday night. As a reward for my hard slog, a blog.

I am going to do PE tomorrow. My stuff is already packed. This is frightening, this progress, this enthusiasm. I’m nervous and worried about sweat and redfacedness and mobile mammary glands. However, we’re all friends here, I suppose… So wish me luck as I embark upon exercise. I’ll risk it’ll be basketball. Why so predictable, Mr Kiley? Liven things up a bit, please. I get the ominous feeling that I’ll regret having typed that. He’ll have us doing rugby or something equally as muddy and rough-and-tumble, the likes of which I’m not a big fan.

Mr O’Dwyer has noticed that I’ve been evading any big Chemistry test we’ve been set. Dammit. I’ve been thwarted, clearly. I do think he will be impressed, however, by my heroic attempt at writing up an experiment of which I have little understanding. Kudos to me. Yes yes.

Maths is becoming frustrating and boring all at once. Well, things get boring for me when I can’t do ‘em. Which is why Maths is now beyond the Valley of the Boring and venturing into the Land of Mind-Numbing Monotony. Am I the only person in the world to not only not understand probability but to not actually see its use either? It’d really make you wonder, the whole thing…

Religion: Makin’ babies. Enough said.

Off to see King Lear in the cinema on Wednesday. Can’t wait. Hilarity ahoy. Pretty sure it’s the same version that Kate and I watched at my house last Christmas. Was hilarious then. Will be more hilarious now due to larger screen and audience. Logic.

On a more personal note, I miss human contact. I miss summer for that very reason. I miss proper hugs and deep and meaningful conversations that are not interrupted by bedtime or school or, I don’t know, distance. Roll on mid-term please so I can remind myself what a proper conversation sounds/ feels like. Copious amounts of cuddles, also.

In the meantime, I am sort of enjoying this mid-week alone time and independence. I believe it suits me, sort of.

Off to learn German (or pretend to) and watch Monday night telly. Wonder is Father Ted on? Looking forward to Sarah & Steve laterzz.

Toodles, I suppose. x

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Illness etc.

A (hopefully) short and sweet blog post to pass time during my study break. I say ‘study break’ but really I mean ‘do-all-my-homework-in-as-little time-as-possible break’. So far I’ve written out (and hopefully subconsciously memorised) oodles of German vocab. I’ve also made out History notes on something to do with the Unionists (I don’t know), and attempted to write up a Chemistry experiment. The latter is half completed which is, you know, half the battle. Currently considering doing some Maths homework and writing my four (yes, four) Art essays. (Descriptions really, but ‘essays’ sounds so much more dangerous.)

Anyway, I had a lovely, quiet weekend. My Saturday was nice. Spent the entire day cleaning my room from top to bottom and then about forty minutes cleaning myself from top to bottom in the shower. Aisling came over and we watched X Factor. Anyone have any opinions? I adored Olly and his shiny, dancing crotch. Also, Lucie and Rikki are brilliant. And Stacey from Dagenham is just so adorable. She looked gorgeous last night and sang so beautifully. And her speaking voice doesn’t half crack me up… The twins also induced laughter, but only out of embarrassment on their behalf. Bloody make ya ashamed to be Irish.

Today I was very domestic. I peeled lots of vegetables and cleaned the kitchen. This makes me feel as though I am not entirely domestically redundant.

German grammar test tomorrow. This is distressing. If I were any good, I’d be learning my ‘der, die, das, die’ table of ‘the’ right now. But I’m not.

King Lear in the cinema on Wednesday. Hilarity ahead.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Friday Night, Bleary-Eyed.

I feel like I haven’t posted properly in a while so this is an update to the masses of people who care about the goings on in the life of Emma Norris. It won’t be very well written and probably not very informative either so if you like reading my waffle, you’ll love these next few paragraphs.

School is going a bit downhill lately. The atmosphere is amazing and I don’t think I’ve gone a day without developing a pain in my stomach from laughing at the most retarded accents and quips we manage to come up with. I have a different voice for each one of my friends, ranging from Biddy out the Coolnamuck Road with Kate, Gravelly Old Person with Gillian and her Fa’ Hole, and Deraldine F*ck the Fingies with Hazel. My life is defined by these accents. I kid you not.

However, on the actual academic side of school, things aren’t quite so hilarious. I’m managing to do little or no homework every night and just about get away with it. I think this makes me a bad person. An ungrateful person, at the very least. You know, some people don’t get the opportunities I get and yet I throw mine away, wasting valuable study hours every night texting and reading wow-factor web stories. Will this better equip me for life after the Leaving Cert. (if I ever get that far)? Probably not. Must change tactics. This will be a study weekend. I promise.

My school bag is bulging, crammed full of books that I will maybe glance at over the next two days. I’ve gone many a weekend so far in Sixth Year without even opening my school bag. This also contributes to me being a bad person, I imagine. But this weekend will be different. I will know German grammar inside down and upside the cranium. I will consult past Chemistry exam papers and I will learn and then test my knowledge of definitions. I will revise Wuthering Heights notes that I’ve made so far this year, and make more on chapters I’ve missed.

That was me being specific, by the way. You know the way they tell you to be specific about what you’re going to study ‘cause if you say you’re going to do everything, more than likely you’ll do nothing. In my case, that’d be true. So that there is my checklist. And if I manage to get that much done, I’ll be happy.
Oh, also, Irish oral questions on TY and my paisean for faisean. And teaching myself the premise of ‘Bímse Buan ar Buart Gach Ló’. And if anyone can offer any insight on the latter (in layman’s terms), I’d be eternally grateful as I have not a notion of what the poem is about.

I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should start sticking to the same subject in each blog post, rather than jumping from topic to topic with meaningless banter about feelings and that. Opinions?

This one will be about school and Friday evenings (this Friday evening in particular).
On the subject of Friday evenings, I don’t like mine being interrupted. I really do adore tidying my room, consuming copious amounts of carbohydrates, having a shower, crawling into my jammies and onto my bed and watching repeats of comedy stuff on Dave and Comedy Central and falling asleep with the telly on. Very bad for the environment (and me supposed to be on the Green School’s Committee?), but I like the safety of the noise and the light in my dark room. It’s just… nice. Traditional, even.

I don’t like doing my Friday’s differently. I don’t like going places on Friday nights. I’m normally too tired to function and/ or enjoy myself and I’ve been known to ruin the proceedings for second and third parties involved. I’m not a sociable Friday person. I do miss mine and Aisling’s Friday nights though. I miss her coming over and us watching Skins while drinking tea and eating junk food and curling up on the sofa… Gosh, I do adore Aisling. Roll on Skins Series Four.

This Friday – as in, today and tonight – I went to St Vincent de Paul. For the first time since, like, last May or June. I ought to be ashamed of myself. And I sort of am since I discovered the sudden influx of girls younger than me and, like, y’know, teeny-boppery, into SVP. Breaks my heart, turns my stomach, etc.. Really I should be pleased because numbers were dwindling, alright, especially with loads of people gone off to college now and the rest of us in Sixth Year and unlikely to be very committed to the cause this year. Or maybe that’s only me. But whatever. Basically, this new generation of helping hands will pick up the pieces when we can’t be bothered to stoop so low. Does that sound very obnoxious? Fuck it.

It is now fifteen minutes past nine. The plan is this: make tea and butter bread (should I feel so inclined in the next half hour), climb into bed and watch telly. Perhaps send some heartwarming text messages to my dear friends too. Amy, in particular, apologising for accidentally pushing her over outside SVP. Hilarious. Earned me two high fives. But rather cruel. And an accident. Poor girl.

Au revoir. x

Wednesday, October 14, 2009


Sixth Year currently. Bit of a pain. Eighteen and legal and incompetent. I like books and tea and nice things. I'm a bit bizarre in the brain but it sort of suits me. I like to think I'm funny at times. Maybe I'm not. I have a very male sense of humour.  I like life at times. It's alright, like. I've got amazing friends, the kind you'd swallow yourself laughing at. My life is pretty good but I get down days. Mostly this blog ends up chronicling those. So enjoy, yeah? Nah, things are getting better. I'm very honest. Like, brutally honest. Shock horror kind of honest. Well, no, that's wrong. But I am a very open person. And this is a pretty personal blog, I suppose. I like to write and I hear through the vine that some people like to read what I like to write. So, like, this is it, innit. Filled with ramblings and rants and teary, passive-aggressive speeches and pretty pictures and maybe occassionally a bit of optimism. Nom nom.

As an aside... I like being eighteen. I feel like it’s my year. Ya know the way ya have a niche that is your place in the world? I want that. I used to have it before, when I was fourteen or fifteen, but then lots of things happened and changed and I grew up (or grew taller) and I didn’t have that niche anymore. And I want it back. It’s nice to know where you’re going in life, or at least where you are now. And I only have vague notions. But lots of things have happened/ changed in the last few months and my confidence/ insanity has been increasing at a rapid rate and I feel like I’m well on my way to finding that niche. A brand new niche. Fully furnished for the adult and mature and clever and hilarious (and modest) Emma Norris. I love being eighteen.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Sequin Dress.

I desperately want one.

It Could Be Worse.

I’m not sure if I even believe that at this stage. But it is true, of course it is. And even if it wasn’t, would that change anything? Would I do anything differently? Maybe weep more but that’s about it.

Today was a bad day. But it ended rather sweetly. I had a shower and a cup of tea and I read Wuthering Heights for a while and had a nap. I had dinner and a superfluous amount of M&Ms. I now feel ill.

More sleep please. And no homework, thank you. Not tonight. Just sleep and plenty of it.

I think I’m going to be an elf again this Christmas. Desperate times and that. However, since I have become greatly accustomed to Janice’s company this year, it could be quite hilarious.

I’m on the Green Schools Committee for our school. I over-estimate my abilities in this regard sometimes: I will grow bored of the responsibility in a week.

I like boys who are clean. No offence to all you dirty and smelly boys out there.

Suddenly I’m overcome with butterflies. Withdrawal systems, maybe? Distance is… somewhat irritating. I would like unlimited time with you, please. Just for an hour or two. You know what I mean?

Sunday, October 11, 2009


I just want freedom.

I really do love winter. It conjures up all these feelings of nostalgia and vulnerability and safety all at once. But it does make me long for something else, that one thing that I’ll never, ever have. Perhaps it’s time for me to start making myself happy all over again?

I don’t think there is anything in the world I love more than my own name. Generic and balanced and I could be anyone. I love it.

There is nothing in the world I hate more than being told what to do. Oh, you have no idea. I’m stubborn and I make up my own mind and if you tell me what to do, I will almost certainly do the opposite. Unless I specifically ask for your advice, I will ceremoniously ignore it completely and make my own mistakes just to know that they are my mistakes, and no one else’s forced achievements.

I like mistakes. I like throwing caution to the wind and disregarding consequences until much too late. I think being sensible is a waste of life. Maybe it suits some people but I personally prefer fucking things up entirely. Self-sabotaging am I etc.

Oh, I don’t even know anymore. But do I necessarily need to? Of course not. I don’t always need to know how I feel, do I? When I get like this, I tend to do what I call ‘absorbing’. Rather than express myself through blogs or whatever when there is little left to express, I revert back to old-fashioned things like reading and watching telly and going to walks and having conversations. And letting thoughts form on their own, without me forcing them to. And I think a period of hiatus is in order.

Don’t miss me too much. Consult the archives if you get very lonely. I’ll probably post wordless posts with pretty pictures in the meantime.

Right now:
  • Homework. That Leaving Cert. thing is a creeping slowly ever closer. And wrecking my buzz completely.
  • Tea. Why not, in fairness?
  • Nice , thoughtful music. Suggestions?
  • Early night (please).
  • Trying to cure this cold.
  • Mourning Stephen Gately. I swear he was my first love. It broke my heart when I found out he was gay (and I must have only been about seven or eight at the time). My heart is further shattered with his death.
PS. My mother and her fella broke up today. I have no opinion as of yet. Other than she’s a miserable bitch.

Saturday, October 10, 2009


This is the first Saturday night in a long, long time where I’ve changed my bed sheets and been washed and fed and ready for bed by eight o’clock. You have no idea how happy I am. I’ve been craving this kind of cosy solitude for ages. This. Is. Bliss. However, being me, I’ll be bored in an hour and will end up on Msn for the night.

But maybe not. Because I’m exhausted and looking forward to copious amounts of tea and some noodles and Saturday night telly. I did consider doing homework and even cleared my desk, setting myself up for the task. But it’s just not going to happen tonight. Anyway, I think I’m after getting (another) cold. So why exert my fragile mind and body?

Vis-á-vis decision making, don’t ask. Because I don’t even know. I’m just trying to motivate myself to do something about this stupid stagnancy. I’m some woman for the ol’ lyin’ to myself. And I always want what I can’t have. And when I get it, I don’t want it anymore.

I love winter so much. I love those fresh air evenings and as much as I complain about it, I love coming in and having the smell of outdoors on my clothes. I love wrapping up in layers upon layers and still feeling cold. I love hats and scarves and gloves. I love coming in from a bitter winter night and having a hot shower and climbing into bed. I love winter stews after a cold day at school. I love seeing my breath fog in front of my face. I love rainy nights. I love rainy days at school listening to the rain pelting off the windows and still considering rain a bit of a novelty. I love bright winter weekends and the red face you get from walking around in ‘em.

In this moment I’m in, life feels good and miraculous.

Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Ruin it then.
Ruin absolutely everything.
And start afresh.
Then you know the things you can mend are the things that mattered the most.

It might not be the best option for you, but if it's what you believe you need to get yourself out of this cycle, then go for it, basically.

You will forever be your own worst enemy, Emma Norris.

Tuesday, October 06, 2009


I have a problem. And it’s not even a real problem. It’s simply the fact that it’s October and it’s all the misery connotations that go with the fact that it’s October. And I need to talk. But I’ve gotten very used to not talking about all the crap stuff in my head, except for vaguely mentioning them so that you don’t get worried when I stop talking to you for a week or two, or stop talking in general. Or stay in my room. Or break out that purple box beside my bed. Because it’s just who I am. There’s no stopping me or guilting me into not being like this. It’s just not that easy.

You know the way people say you can talk to them if you ever have a problem? What would you even say? Because the things that bother me and upset me and send me into raging paroxysms of weeping and feeling like poo, are pretty inconsequential. For example, what’s technically upsetting me now is the broken ‘e’ key and my oily forehead and that whole baby thing. But really, it’s none of that. It’s just this feeling. This feeling that I can’t contend with the elements. And to explain the feeling, I’d need hours upon hours of your undivided attention and, let’s face it, that’s just not possible in our fast-moving society, is it? People have their own lives and no time to be listening to my feelings.

And I’m not angry about that. I accept that. The only flaw in this system is that I’ve gotten so used to people not having time to listen that when they actually do have time, I have nothing to say. Well, I have plenty to say, but I don’t have the words or the gall. Or the level of alcohol required in my system to tell you everything you need to know in order to hate me. Sometimes I wish everyone hated me, just so I wouldn’t have to waste their time. Surely that’s not healthy?

Monday, October 05, 2009

Music I’ve Been Adoring Lately.

Wild Beasts ‘Two Dancers’.

Regina Spektor ‘Far’.

Of Montreal ‘Satanic Panic in the Attic’.

Jamie T ‘Kings and Queens’.


you being in love
will tell who softly asks in love,

am i separated from your body smile brain hands merely
to become the jumping puppets of a dream? oh i mean:
entirely having in my careful how
careful arms created this at length
inexcusable, this inexplicable pleasure-you go from several
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
slowly, oh seriously
-that since and if you disappear

ask "life, the question how do i drink dream smile

and how do i prefer this face to another and
why do i weep eat sleep-what does the whole intend"
they wonder. oh and they cry "to be, being, that i am alive
this absurd fraction in its lowest terms
with everything cancelled
but shadows
-what does it all come down to? love? Love
if you like and i like,for the reason that i
hate people and lean out of this window is love,love
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason
that i do not fall into this street is love."
— e.e. cummings

Sunday, October 04, 2009

A Cocktail of Emotions.

I can still remember when your city smelled exciting. I still get a whiff of that aroma now and then.

Time for one of those blogs, I think. Some of you will rejoice.

I feel so weird. I hate being this little emo girl. I really am so tired of it. October is always such a bad month. What’s thirty-one minus four? I have that number of days left. No more crying. No more alcohol. No more of those conversations: I just don’t have the heart for them. I wish things were different. You have no idea. I think my heart is breaking all over again. Or maybe I’m only now beginning to notice the emotional debris all over my life. But this is crap. And I wish I didn’t exist.

I lost my sunglasses last night. And it’s killing me. I am such a loser. Why am I always crying? Why do I have to be so fucking honest? People don’t even want to know so why do I open my mouth? I’m achieving nothing. So what is the point?

And how do I get myself into these kinds of situations? How is it possible for one person to make the exact same mistakes over and over and over?

Also, I never noticed exactly how independent I’d become. It feels good, but it’s also kind of scary. It tells me that I’m pretty much capable of anything now. I can do whatever I want. I am in charge of my life. That fucking terrifies me.

I miss Aisling.

I want a brand new life, please. Starting to hate this one again.

Plan #1: Tidy room. Change bedsheets. Shower. Nap. Homework. Bed.

I’d like to see Kate but I don’t think I have the energy.

I think my heart is breaking and I don’t even know why.

And that right there is me watching my head being brought in on a silver platter. Enjoy.

Maybe it’s just a bad day, but things feel like they’re crumbling. And I’m crumbling under their weight. I know some people don’t like to admit when they’re down or something’s wrong. Why, I don’t know. But they don’t. I do. It might seem like it’s for attention but isn’t that the whole point? You need to feel like you matter. I have no problem asking for help when I need it. I just never know who to ask.


Saturday, October 03, 2009

A Mini Update.

I say ‘mini’ but it probably won’t be that miniature at all. Unless I chose to write in extra small writing. Which I won’t. Because it isn’t fair on those of you who, like me, struggle with ordinary sized text and suffer from a condition known as blind-as-a-bat-ness.

My ‘e’ key won’t work properly. This will kill me. Am trying to think of as many words as possible that don’t contain the letter ‘e’. I don’t think I can deal with the heartache.

It’s Saturday. Which means I will be doing my usual Saturday things: hour long shower, avoiding homework, flawless make-up, waiting for something to happen. Today should be good though. <3

Listening to Last Shadow Puppets. Lent the CD to a friend sometime last year and only pulled it out of the case this morning, having it back with about a month or so. I like it. Opinions? Listen to this song, if you get a chance.

Had such a weird dream involving a disgusting amount of urine and our old house (the bathroom of which used to be carpeted). Strange. We did have a nice shower though. In the dream. Not in real life. I sort of miss that house sometimes. It was freezing, like, and some of the windows didn’t open properly and others didn’t close properly, but it was homely all the same. Simpler times etc.

In a very nostalgic mood. But not recent nostalgia. Like, years ago nostalgia. Strange. I mostly try to forget stuff from years ago. I put a lot of energy into blocking my childhood from my mind. Why, I don’t know. I don’t like that version of me very much, I suppose.

That’s all I have to say this morning.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Oh, It Takes Me Back…

Spent the last half an hour looking through a box I found in the shed filled with old folders and that. Thought I might find some used polypockets in it since I’m running low in school. I only found three. In amongst about five folders. However, apart from that, I found my ten- and eleven-year-old self. Not a pretty sight.

At that age, by looks of it, my interests consisted mainly of Avril Lavigne, Busted, Blazin’ Squad and Eminem. I also found several copies of Sabrina’s Secrets magazine (yeah, that beauty magazine/ marketing ploy from the Sabrina the Teenage Witch crowd), as well as songs and stories I’d written. And notes I’d written to people but had never sent. (Passive-aggressive since day one, clearly.) I was such a strange child. And that box barely scratches the surface of what an arrogant little snot I was.

The only useful things I found in the box were a half used refill pad, the three polypockets, some plastic book covering stuff, a sheet of Harry Potter wrapping paper, and four blank cards.

Thursday, October 01, 2009

On the Changing of the State of Mind.

I like to write. Obviously. But sometimes I don’t have the necessary equipment with me, if I’m out and about or whatever, and if I need to vent or expostulate or whatever, I’ll write a text on my phone and save it in Drafts. My phone is a mini diary.

I was reading through old texts today and found this, written 1st October 2008:
“Ultimately, it’s just one less person I can tell my problems to. What problems? Lack thereof, maybe?
How are ya, Emma? Weary.

Maybe I need a bit longer than twenty-five minutes to regroup. Though what conclusions I’d reach is unfathomable because I already know that all the faults in my life are compulsory elements. People don’t kill themselves because there is no God, they kill themselves because life is too great a disaster to try to overcome. I don’t think I can be criticised for being unable to contend with the elements: maybe I wasn’t brought up right or there’s something wrong with the education system. But I know that I am not cut out for this life thing. And lots of people would make lots of predictable, narrow-minded comments but, honestly, it wouldn’t change how I feel.

I don’t know if I’m asking for a miracle cure for my mini mental malady – though that wouldn’t go unappreciated – but I am asking for some kind of understanding or recognition or something. Someone to tell me that I’m not, I dunno, creative. That I haven’t just fabricated an ailment in my head. And even if I have, to tell me why. Why I’d do this to myself. Why I’d make myself suffer unendingly for the last year and a half. Which feels like a lot longer. I want someone to pinpoint exactly where my mind went wrong.”
The whole thing probably seems a bit OTT. To me, it does. But it serves as a reminder of exactly how far I’ve come in one year.

The ‘one less person’ was someone I used to be very good friends with. At that time, our friendship had begun to decline and I was trying to justify the whole thing to myself, while also being in the midst of ill thoughts and the idea of the Leaving Cert. which was millennia down the line. Having tried a hundred and one times to mend that friendship, a year on, I know it’s not going to happen. We’ll never be friends in the same way we used to be.

When I read that text back earlier, I realised that you weren’t just someone I could tell my problems to. Because I have those sorts of people now, so your function isn’t required. But I miss you, as a person. I miss talking to you. And it isn’t like me to dwell on things like this, not after this long, but I miss you. And it kills me that we will never be real friends again.

On the subject of my state of mind in that slice of emotional carnage, things are very different now. A year on and, to a certain extent, I have things under control. Circumstances have not really changed, and I have endured my fair share of mini disasters in the last few months. But I am still alive and not depressed and things really could be a lot worse. Sometimes I find myself in situations from which there is no escape. But they work out. And I’ve sort of known all along that they would. Other times though, I get down. I feel crap and am resigned to the notion that I’m back to square one when I might not be at all.

There will be a bad day, and another one after that, and maybe a third. And I get scared that nothing has changed at all. But if you knew what it was like (and lots of people do, unfortunately) you’d understand my fear. That above text message is not a place I want to return to. I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do it again. Last year, my mind almost crippled the rest of me. And I haven’t the heart for it anymore.

Life is good right now. I’d like to say that I intend to keep it that way but I really don’t know how much control I have over my thoughts, in reality. Certainly the people around me these days help. It is so important to feel that there are people on my side, willing me to win the battle against my brain.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so positive, and yet so realistic. I know my life is not perfect – not by a long shot – but it is good. And that’s all I’m asking for. There are issues, but there are always issues. And there’ll be bigger ones in the future. But I’ll deal with them. One day at a time and all that.

Basically, in essence, to sum up, I’m happy in a very real way.