Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Three Worst People in the World.

When I was younger, before I ever knew what depression was, when my mother was beginning to suspect that something wasn’t quite right in the workings of my mind and that thirteen year olds don’t normally act this morbidly, I didn’t like to be around people. On my bad days during summer holidays, I’d stay in bed all day with the curtains pulled, listening to music and writing and eating and reading. I read a lot then. I didn’t want to be around people when I felt awful. And I didn’t even know what it was, the feeling awful thing. I just knew that I didn’t want to be around my friends. The summers that were wasted, me avoiding sunshine and being happy. But everything was wrong then. Being thirteen and fourteen are awful ages. My hair was horrible, I was probably smelly and I had no dress sense. I felt completely and utterly inadequate but I had no real sense of why that was.

I’m more self-aware these days. I’ve been aware of my feelings since I was sixteen. I have notebooks upon notebooks describing the same feelings over and over again. People  talk about journeys a lot and it’s such a ubiquitous metaphor but all of that feeling bad when I was thirteen to this feeling loopy (but mostly happy) at eighteen was a journey. And getting here was not easy. There have been so many tears and snotty sleeves and kisses and catastrophes. And maybe my heart did break, but it’s mending and I need this – to just be Emma Norris, with no one else’s name attached.

I’m in that horribly philosophical and disgustingly sentimental end-of-year mood. I liked 2009. It did have its ups and downs but it has changed me so much. My life is completely different. I’m a completely different person to who I was twelve months ago, and I’m so grateful. To God, or someone. Because in 2008 I was feeling very ambivalent to the whole life thing. I feel lucky to have lived through 2009. It has made all the difference and I loved it.

I love all the nice new music that I never listened to before and all the clothes. The way I have a sort of style now, rather than just jeans and a t-shirt that makes my boobs look awful. It’s nice. I like home life and family things, the way they have developed and the way I’m able to really talk. I love all the new relationships. I think that was the best thing about 2k9 – new friends. JG, HOB, RHJ. More besides, obviously. But wow. There are so many amazing people in my life. Who can I thank for this?

I’ve decided that all this passive aggressive blogging when things go wrong isn’t very healthy, so I’m going to stop. Or at least go on hiatus. Because I have other things to occupy my mind now, sort of. I’m going to invest in a notebook and it’s going to be great and 2010 is going to be amazing and, yeah, I’m in a bad mood now but I’ll be fine. You’re always going to get bad days. It’s the contrast that makes you appreciate the good days. And there are marvellous days. But I want simplicity. And I just want friends and nothing else. I don’t want someone who is going to make me feel awful just because they feel awful. I’ve had plenty of that and I’m full to the gullet, thanks very much. Anyway, I don’t trust myself not to hurt you. I’m much too wrapped up in being Emma Norris now to be at all concerned with taking care of your emotions on top of that. I’m sorry if that seems selfish but I have to be honest. You’re wonderful and you’re perfect but it doesn’t seem right: it’s as though I want someone to bully me. And until that feeling goes away, I won’t ever be happy with a boy, least of all someone as sweet as you. I don’t want to waste your time. So off you go. On your way, now. Good boy. It was nice knowing you. It’s been real. Au revoir.

I’m sure all of this makes me a horrible person. But I don’t care. This ‘journey’ or whatever it is is not over, is it? Not by a long shot. I sort of thought it was and I feel sad because even after all this hard work, I’m still not fully there. And I know I have to just get on with it and I have a whole new year to get working on advancing my life that bit more. I’m sorry for not being over the moon now. Maybe it’s just one of those lack lustre no energy listless days where I have no interest in advancing anything other than my blog archives and my melancholia. I don’t know. All I do know is that right at this moment in time, the thoughts of more hard work is nearly breaking my heart. This is just a weak moment though and I just need a hug and everything will be okay tomorrow.

Ya know the way sometimes boys are lovely and wonderful and all you want to do is kiss them and go on adventures with them? I have that opportunity and I don’t want it. I want to adventure on my own and with my friends. And this still feels so brand new.

In any case, I’m still dreaming of someone else. And I think that scares me more than anything else in the whole wide world. I don’t want to dream about you forever, but every time someone gets close, I do. I hate it. I wish I hated you. I hope my heart won’t always belong to you, but if it does, that that will make a difference. But I really don’t think it will.

No more blogging. At least for a while. Weak moments should not be broadcast for the whole world to see. They are for my eyes only and if you feel like throwing your arms around me in those weak moments, that’s okay too. In fact, please do. Lately, these weak moments are very few and far between but they don’t half sting still. Ughh, hold me.

Aufwiedersehen and farewell etc. It’s been real and it’s been fun and all that. You kids take care of yourselves. Until next time! x

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Kissmas.

Genuinely excited about Christmas this year, more for dinner and dresses and quality time with family and friends, than for presents that I’ll forget about in a week.

So it’s that boring part of Christmas now, waiting for dinner and being too restless to concentrate on those Christmassy films. And frustrated at the distance and the age we’re at and the decade I was born in, maybe even the century. I get how you get these ‘weird feelings’, ‘cause I get them too. And anyway, it’s just small talk now. I hate that fragile part where you start to run out of things to say. An adventure is needed. At least it would give us something worthwhile to discuss. I like the things we have in common. And I like how sincere you are. And I like how you’re fluent in Irish. So let’s adventure, yeah?

Good haul this Christmas. Nice, small, simple pressies. Funds and clothes and telly and dinner and alcohol and simplicity. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and I’m so excited about the New Year now. I know what I’m capable of. I know what I can and can’t do, what I should and should not do. I know that having a routine goes a long way towards my happiness. I know that being clean and well dressed and engaging in stupid conversations with my wonderful friends makes me happy, or at least contributes to my well-being. More of that in two thousand and ten, please. Life is good. (:

God, I feel like getting drunk…

Happy Christmas, everyone. Enjoy yourselves. Make the most of the festivities. Be good. And if you can’t be good, be careful.

With lots of Christmas kisses,

Emma. x

Monday, December 21, 2009

Why do you always do this to me? Every single time I manage to make myself somewhat happy, you appear out of nowhere and reduce me to a sobbing and pathetic wreck. Please don’t do that. Not now. It has been so hard getting to this point, feeling happy and content and enriched by stupid things like telly and tea and I can’t go back to that emptiness. I refuse. Please don’t do this again. Don’t make me cry. Please. It’s amazing how you can phone me up out of the blue and make my stomach lurch like that and have me feeling genuinely sick at the prospects of what you might do or say. If you have some big news, I don’t want to hear it. If you’ve come to some sort of conclusion about something, don’t think you need to discuss it with me. Idle small talk? Don’t ruin my week just for that. I am begging you. I just will not be able to cope. I’m sorry if this seems selfish but I have considered your feelings all day every day for two years and neglected my own. I didn’t try to make myself happy. It was supposed to be your job, only you weren’t interested in that role. I wish you were. A small part of me still wishes you were. A tiny part of me wants you back in my life still. But I’m moving on and there is a boy who is perfect, who thinks I’m perfect. Of course there are those niggles. But I can ignore those niggles if it means my happiness in the end. You coming into my life again after weeks of pretending that I didn’t exist is not something I would ever be able to take lightly. And not now. You phoning me will magnify all those doubts in my mind and I’m just not able for it. Why would you do this to me again? I just cannot deal with this, not when everything else is going so well. It kills me, but you will always outweigh ‘everything else’.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

A Perfect Weekend etc.

2009 has been the best year of my life so far. I have learned so much about everything, about myself, about the world, and about how sometimes it’s okay to be sad. Everything will be okay in the end. Nothing is forever. There’s bouts of sadness and there’s bouts of happiness and you just have to make the best of all of ‘em. Right now, my life is excellent and I cannot fault it at all. But I know that sometime there will be a bad time, but that’s okay too, ‘cause I’ll take care of me and my friends will take care of me. The most important lesson I’ve learned this year: It is okay to feel how you feel.

2009 was definitely my year. At 12 am on the 1st January 2009, my best friend told me that 2009 would be my year and it was. So much of my life has changed and I love it. I like me. I love my friends and my family and my everyday life. Everything is wonderful.

As weekends go, this one was amazing. It’s two o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, so I have a bit of it left to go, but so far, so good. On Friday Aisling came over and we watched Glee and Misfits. Glee is our new ‘thing’. I like that. I like that me and my best friend have ‘things’ and the things provide an excuse for her to come over to my house on a Friday or Saturday night and watch telly or talk, delirious with tiredness, and eat sweets and drink tea. Last year, Skins was our thing on a Friday night. I used to tape it on the Sky box on Thursday night and we’d watch it after school the following night. Skins finished up and we had nothing, but then X Factor came along and we were content for weeks but now that’s gone too. Glee is definitely the new thing though. Between the cheesiness and the wall to wall collection of songs that everyone knows, it is the perfect recipe for Saturday nights at my house during the cold spring months. Roll on mid January, innit.

So Friday was lovely. Laughing with Aisling and talking to SB on the phone ‘til all hours. I had to get up and be dressed and at the hairdresser’s for half nine the next morning though. I was exhausted. But my hair is fixed and looks somewhat natural now. Hoorah. Returned from Cleo’s and had a shower and washed my hair again and met SB in New Street and proceeded to ramblé around the town and up by the river bank and it was beautiful. It was the perfect winter’s day. We were wrapped up in proper winter coats and it was cold and sunny and everyone said hello and it was like something out of a film. An excited puppy ran straight for me on the river bank and leapt all over me. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. We ate stew for dinner (me and SB, rather than me and the puppy) and hung out in my room and danced and it genuinely was perfect. And I’m a sap, obviously, but I don’t care because I’m happy and giddy and genuinely excited by how lovely you are and how similar we are and how I can say or do whatever I like and you won’t think I’m a freak, and the same goes for you.

‘He’s so cynical.’
’Shur so are you, Emma.’
’I know. That’s why I love it.’

Yeah, we are pretty much made for each other.

I’ve been thinking about the kind of people you end up with in the end. And I always thought it would be you, but I’m not so sure anymore. Surely you can’t end up with someone who doesn’t make you happy? You can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. I’m just awfully naive.

Anyway, after SB went home on Saturday, I went into the church and hung around with Amy’s little brother and sister for an hour before the Toy Mass started. It was hilarious. The whole thing was so festive and Christmassy. Aisling came along and it was great. We sang and ate jellies and promised to bring Amy’s siblings to the shop afterwards because they were very thirsty (since they’d had nothing to drink all day and Amy had bought them salty chips at four o’clock). After the mass, Kate and Aisling came over to mine and we ate Roses and listened to ‘shtupid’ music. I had an excellent night’s sleep and am very content right at this moment in time.

What a horribly factual blog post.

Happy Kissmas, kids. x

Friday, December 18, 2009

Further Updates from the Bundle of Misery that is Emma Norris.

I am currently somewhat snotty-nosed and sitting wrapped up in my bed, blogging and listening to a shuffled array of music (MGMT, right at this moment in time). I am so glad it’s Friday. I don’t like thinking on Fridays and even writing this post is really pushing my already fragile brain into overdrive and it is very likely to crash. Should that happen, you’ll find me horizontal in bed, comatose, while the voice of Stephen Fry (or someone of equal hilarity) musing gently on the television.

Today in school was actually something of an okay day. Double Art was still painful, but numbed slightly by my blatant hilarity and political way of wooing Ms Walsh if the need arises. And I finished my painting Wednesday night and was able to hand it up proudly (having dawdled for the first twenty minutes of the class by ever so neatly – and slowly – writing my explanation and reasoning on the back). I also deduced that I cannot draw motorbikes, but it was an awful coincidence having found that motorbike magazine on the top of the pile in the first place we looked. That pretty much made my day, the way it all just fitted together so nicely. Highly unproductive class but it made me happy. And I have about a month to come up with a final proposal for lino printing design which is excellent, considering I will leave it ‘til the night before anyway.

We had some sort of interaction with soap in Chemistry, and double Maths proved crucial in fixing something. Something that, if it was permanently broken, would have sent me to tears. The prospect of Best Girl Month-Long Drunk Times in Foreign Lands makes me very excited. I love Basil. <3

English was amusing, I avoided demonstrating my complete laziness in both History and German and today was a good day.

Other than complete lack of communication with members of my entourage, I’m in an excellent mood. And that lack of communication isn’t really a bad thing. I’m exhausted after these past few days. I haven’t had an early night in about a week and I’m looking forward to tonight’s one, hopefully distraction free.

If I was any good, I’d be tidying my room and hoovering now or something, but I’m not any good and, in any case, I’ve been neglecting this blog of late. I don’t know if anyone has noticed or has been heartbroken or anything, but I like to think that some people do actually enjoy reading my waffling nonsense (which, bizarrely, is becoming more and more optimistic with every post). Anyway, I’ve decided that I should relax. Or something. Sleepytime and telly soon.

Tomorrow will be nice. Getting my hair fixed at half nine (what is with Cleo and her 9.30 am schedule? It bothers me). Yeah, we realised that my hair wasn’t actually grand, as I posted yesterday (or whenever, I don’t remember) – it’s actually hideous. Well, no, not hideous. But yellow. Hmm. She’s going to risk fine little brown bits in it to tone it down but we are all highly concerned about how effective that will actually be. And by ‘we’, I mean me and my sister. We worry about these things, her a lot more vocally than me.

Anyway, hairdresser’s at half nine, then home for a shower and wash my hair and dry it because hairdressers do not understand my fringe. Fact. Anyway, then that nice (yet endearingly casual) purple dress and (fine weather permitting) grey boots. Then collecting SB from the bus stop and engaging in hilarious adventures around town, including eating noodles and graphing the slopes of, well, various slopes around Carrick. Should be interesting.

Afterwards, Toy Mass and homework and finding something to fill the void left where X Factor once was. I will sincerely miss seeing Olly Murs every Saturday and Sunday night. :(

Awh, damn, History project as well… Crap.

Anyway, that’s all for now, I think.

PS. Here is the very gorgeous Hazel, with Jammy Dodger eyes. I love her. My favourite photo at the moment:


Wednesday, December 16, 2009


Coffee, Tea, or Me
Right, okay, so I think that a proper update is in order. Bear in mind that I’m a bit frazzled and my feet are cold and I’ve drawn a complete creative block. Don’t expect anything too poetic.

Got my hair done at half nine this morning. Half nine, I ask you! It’s grand, like, but I really do hate the way hairdressers insist on blowdrying your hair flat down along your face. I think that only works if you look a bit gaunt. With my round face, I require a bit of, y’know, volume. Oh well. I’m blonder. And that ridiculous brown streak is gone from my fringe. Wait, what fringe? Why do all hairdressers ignore the fact that I do actually have a fringe? It drains me, the thoughts of it. Ughh. It’ll be fine once I wash it and dry it myself or whatevs.

Been listening to the Beatles lately. They mirror my recent wonderfully jovial mood. I almost made myself hoarse last night from singing along at the top of my voice while trying on superfluous amounts of dresses. Gosh, I love dresses. I hate jeans, I really do.

I cleaned out my wardrobe yesterday and for some bizarre reason opted to keep most of the jeans I own. I will never wear them. Hmm. Hoodies, jeans, t-shirts and runners. I don’t know why but I just don’t do them anymore. Except for hoodies in bed. ‘No wonder you can’t get up in the morning – you’re too warm,’ arsa Mamaí.

Anyway, my wardrobe is all nice now and contains only clothes that I will actually wear, although there is no room whatsoever now. This is the first time that I’ve ever said that. My wardrobe is usually bare. Ha. This new abundance of dresses and skirts has contributed to my awesomely good mood. I know it’s an awful thing to say that some degree of my happiness comes from material things, but find me one girl who is not thrilled to bits upon buying a beautiful new dress. I have several now and I am very thrilled indeed.

I’m beginning to genuinely like Emma Norris. Like, properly. Without being arrogant or vain or anything, I do sort of approve of the person I am. I mean well. And with you out of my life, I have no demons to battle, internal or otherwise located. I’m relieved. A very, very tiny part of me thinks of past events and, I don’t know, weeps. Metaphorically. But my life is so good right now (we’re talking, like, 9.8) that it’s hard to really miss all that old stuff. I didn’t like me when I was with you. Now I like me. I suppose it seems like a sacrifice but it has worked out in my favour.

I’m working on getting my life together in little ways that make me happy and fulfilled or whatever. The Christmas holidays will be good to assist me in actually getting started on revision or homework or something. I am such an academic waster lately. It is terrible. I do sincerely feel guilty. I’ve been good at school since day dot and to throw it all away now on one lazy year seems like madness. It is madness. I will get my act together and it will be amazing. Four hundred and fifty points would be great, thanks. Journalism or Public Relations or English & Media? Opinions, please.

There’s that whole other aspect of my life then, the bit which has me reeling with joy and excitement and butterflies. I am not cynical. I like that. It’s lovely to think that I’m completely and utterly content being just Emma Norris, singularly. But you are something special. I look forward to our conversations every day. You have me feeling giddy and I’m looking forward to Saturday in a seriously girly way. Is it sad that I’ve already picked out what I’m going to wear? As if I need to impress you at this stage! This really is lovely. Made for each other, innit. (; And if it all goes pear-shaped, at least I’ll know I tried and I gave it a go and I am not bitter etc. I think you are worth this risk.

With every broken heart, we should become more adventurous.
I’m excited about everything right now. I like my life. It has taken a long, long time to reach this happy place but it was worth it. And if you need a sign, this is it. I know how awful life is. I know how worthless you feel, how ambivalent. How you think you’ll never be happy. You will. Happiness is not a constant. And it isn’t really a place. It’s a state of mind, like everything else. I promise that one day you will get there, you brain will wander moors of miserable thoughts and eventually end up somewhere nice and sunny and not perfect, but good. Don’t make your happiness conditional. Don’t say you’ll be happy if you had nice clothes, or if you were thin. Don’t idealise the past. It was not that good at the time. Don’t think that you’d be happy if only you could return to some Mecca of lost love and a time when you and that boy were perfect for each other. ‘If you were perfect for each other, you’d be together now.’ That stung me too. But maybe it’s true. Maybe you just haven’t met that perfect person yet. Don’t ever give up. Look out for number one. You are the most important person in your life. Other people can look after themselves, and if they can’t, you’re no good to them unless you can look after yourself. You’re more beautiful than you know. Be kind to yourself. Forget seeing the good in every day, see the good in yourself, every day. Because there is a lot of it. If you can’t be positive, surround yourself with positive people who will only make you feel good about yourself. Avoid complainers and gossips and show-offs. Find laughter and engage in it. Persevere a little longer, please.

‘Get in and c’mere to me.’

Umm, to sum up, I can’t wait for Saturday and Christmas and college and life.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Perfect Day.

I saw my debs dress in red. I was like, ‘Bit cheap lookin’, innit?’

Yesterday was the most perfect day I’ve had in a long, long, long time. Between all the beautiful dresses I bought, and the gay turtles, and the sweaty palms, and dancing to no music, and the five hour long phone conversation, it will take quite a lot to top that Saturday. Licking your eyes and sperm nappies and various other hilarious and bizarre topics of conversation. Catch me, I’m falling, innit? Ha. (:

I promise there’ll be a proper blog soon, when I actually get a chance to dwell on my life. Though I’m not sure I really want that to happen. I like all of this right now and I’m happy and content to just go with it, without scrutinising and blogging. Needless to say though, if I have something important to tell you, I shall broadcast it here. (;

This is so exciting. In a proper, real way. I’m excited. It’s an adventure and I love it. Noodles on toast and seeing the sights, yeah? Ughh, hold me.


End of the Universe
I Want the Air to Fill my Chest
I Will Dare
I'm Looking at You
Let's Go Anywhere
Tragedy in Their Blood
Noisy and Colourful
Nothing Really Matress
Play to Your Heart's Desire
The Best Kind of Love

Monday, December 07, 2009

Remembering Things in a Nice Way.

I’m listening to Faith No More and remembering being in London and it’s lovely. Been thinking a lot about stuff like that lately. But in a nice way. In a way that acknowledges that all of that was lovely but it was a different epoch. It’s not as if my life isn’t nice now – it is. Of course it is. It’s just a bit different. That other time was lovely, but so is this time. And ya have to keep moving forward, don’t ya?

I sort of still miss things but I’m content to think of them in a nostalgic kind of way, rather than a way that makes me feel robbed of all those nice times. I don’t know. It was lovely but it’s not like lovely things like that will never happen again. I’m only eighteen. There’s plenty love and stuff left and probably of a higher quality. Ya just get used to someone. I liked our dynamic. But there’ll be other nice dynamics with other wonderful people. And I’m not as bad as we both made me out to be.

In any case, I much prefer being with my friends and looking out for #1 and that. I like not having arguments with anyone and my lunchtimes not being ruined because I’m being put on the long finger or whatever or feeling like poo because I don’t get a reply to a text I sent hours ago. Or people not answering their phone and me feeling like I’m in the wrong then, like. Whatevs. S’all good now and that is that.

Off to do something massively productive, like wash and do Art homework.

Nom nom, FNM. Laaav itttttt.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Song, Moment, Happy.










Please listen to this song. It’s actually lovely. If you’re anything like me, you won’t listen to it. I will never ever watch a video on someone’s page (blog, Facebook, whatevs) and I probably won’t watch it if you link me to it either. But listen to this song, because it’s a gorgeous version of Kate Bush’s ‘Wuthering Heights’ song. Beautiful. Listen. Good.

Yeah, so last night was interesting. Pretty sure I didn’t cry, which is always nice. A complete rarity.

I’m in the fairly early stages of being genuinely happy to be single. It’s lovely. It really is. I didn’t think it could ever happen but it has and innit that it’s beautiful? Oh, hold me. (:

Clothes shopping next weekend. Can’t wait.

The Kissmas holidays should be interesting. Interesting: story of my life. But ‘interesting’ is a euphemism here. And I’m not sure for what exactly. I know what I mean but I can’t explain it. Would probably show me in bad light anyway, innit. Oh well.

Nice music at the moment. Actually, this is a nice moment. I’m sitting in my chair with my feet on the bed and I’m texting via the Meteor website (and it’s very polite and conversational and what have you – nothing sordid). I’m listening to nice, meaningful music and considering going for a shower in a bit and changing the bedsheets and getting in the bed and watching telly and being all nice and snuggly. Might even risk some History project.

I love being alive. Weird statement? Don’t care. Life is nice sometimes. Lap it up.

Off to do something hilarious. What, I don’t know. I’ll keep you updated.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

This is Me Being Happy.

Can’t wait to go shopping and for it to be Christmas and to have those hilarious sleepovers with wine and Rice Krispy buns and to take pictures and for that stupid Leaving Cert to be over so I can run away to Yankland for a while and then head off to UL (or somewhere – I don’t know) and be a grown up and forget about all the silly people.

I will miss the boys in Sixth Year at the moment. They’re all so lovely. (:

I will also miss the dynamic between me and my friends. It’s so perfect.

In a most sentimental mood right now. Ha.

Off to bathe and do something productive. Rush job on the art painting, perhaps.

Everything is beautiful. The Smiths, tea, my friends, dreaming, sleep, X Factor, a can or two, conversations, dresses, nail varnish, stationery, mending feet. Everything. This is me being happy. Ha.

Friday, December 04, 2009



I want to blog but I simply do not have the energy. Essentially, I’m clean and happy and I love Aisling and Amy and this weekend could well turn out to be a pleasant one. Maybe even a productive one.

I’m bored, so I’m off to do homework. Things actually are that bad.

I do quite approve of you (to say the least) so don’t let me down, please.

Had a dream about Jedward last night. Strange.

I like being single, I really do. Shocking. In fact, I hardly believe it myself, but it is true.

Aufwiedersehen für jetzt.


Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Pre-Productive Evening Blogpost.

Today was infuriating. There are so many people who are just so backwards and all of them were in my line of vision today, the bastards.

You put yourself in these situations and I therefore have no sympathy. Don’t come crying to me again. You do this just for the attention. And you lie. Ughh.

Stupid photographer, why were you covered in mud?

D’you know what? I’m actually too angry to blog, for once. I’m going to do homework in a very angry and efficient manner. Consult Twitter if you’re looking for me. (Yeah, back on that bandwagon. Don’t care.)