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.


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