Friday, April 30, 2010

make-up and other things.

Damn you for thinking me ugly. Anyway, personality is more important. And I am not boring. I might be a lot of things, but I am not boring.

Got my wonderful perfume. So excited. So excited that I can’t even use it yet. It’s beautiful. The box is beautiful. Vintage and pale and floral. And French. Which is a gorgeous bonus.
Also purchased a beautiful new Rimmel nail polish. Been pretty much dreaming about it for a week now so, y’know, hooray.

I’m not a mascara person. I struggle with superior brands, getting clumpy, stuck-together eyelashes. However, I bought the cheapest one I could find today, in order to experiment. I’m not expecting much since it cost €2.50 but you never know. And anyway, I don’t have much to compare it to. So it wins already. I’ve been wearing it on my right upper lashes for a couple of hours ‘cause ya know the way when you get something new, you have to try it out? In a half-arsed way, obviously. It does what I was expecting it do and, well … ya can’t ask for much more that than.

History project is done and handed up and off my shoulders. Finally. If I never hear the name Maud Gonne again, it will be too soon. I really did enjoy writing ‘Inghinidhe na hÉireann’ the whole time though. It flowed, like.

I am glad it is the weekend. I am feeling scarily inadequate. I hate how honest some people are. I love you, I really do, but you don’t need to verify just how awful I am when I suggest that I might be a bit obnoxious from time to time. Hmm. But you mean well. And, let’s face it, I rely on you a lot lately. For so many things. Alcohol, especially. Alcohol this weekend? Yes, please. I need over-the-knee socks…

Au revoir, you sexy beasts. x

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

things what are lovely.

This thing is harder than I imagined it would be. I thought I’d relish being able to just feel but I forgot how awful feeling stuff is sometimes. I’m backing out. I’m trying not to. I’m trying to think of lovely things. Not negative things. Not negative, heart-breaking pictures. Which is a hard thing to do. All those sad poems seem to be written about you. And placed right under my nose to catalyse my sadness. But that’s a lie. Because I go looking. Looking for some kind validation. Something to tell me that it’s okay to feel like this. Sometimes I honestly don’t know if it is. I have to frequently ask my best friend if these Weak Moments are normal. I am a hindrance now though. And I’m sorry. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with myself during Weak Moments. I text. I tell you. I think. I cry. I feel my stomach lurch in sync with every memory. And then it passes. The only thing that really helps is having you tell me that it is okay to feel like this. Then I am calm in the knowledge that I am not losing my mind. So thank you. For always reassuring me. Unquestioningly. And with such unfounded confidence in me. You amaze me. And I wish you were here right now.

Instead, since I can’t have that, I’ve been thinking of some Lovely Things to occupy my mind. Planning lovely things. Planning in general. Conspiring really. I will be good and strong. I promise.

i don’t know what this is but i know i don’t want it.

So I need those colours. And healthy feet. And that smell. And photos. And not being drunk for once? Maybe. I am glad I have you. You are exactly what I need right now. Seeing you automatically makes me happy and I feel nervous when you’re not there. I feel vulnerable. Because everyone has their person. Or people. I am so glad you are  my person. And I hope you’ll be my person for a long time. Forever. College. Vodka. How both our lives are awful but you just have to live it. I think you are making me happy. (:

In other news, this still stings. Still. Forever. Now. Always. Lifelong. Eternity. Infinity. Until Hell freezes over. Until the cows come home. I fucking hope not. This really hurts.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

newness.

There is a small possibility that we might be moving house. This town is not a good place to live. Small town syndrome? Small village syndrome, please.

I feel ill. Ill in every way. Back, stomach, head, feet. I am not a hypochondriac but I sound like one, don’t I?

Emma, is it? You’re doing your Leaving Cert. now, are ya?

Yes, and preparing to fail.

There are two of me. One is very happy and strange and loud and oblivious and probably a bit obnoxious. The other me is sour and wound up and makes no sense. And nothing makes sense to her. And I’m that second person now. There’s lots of reasons. Some that I simply don’t have the balls to relay here. But I’m not good. Sometimes I am awful. And avoidant. And unaffected by the things that really should affect me.

Was I really that horrible before? I didn’t know. I thought I was perfect. I thought I was the victim. I didn’t realise that I was idolising someone who now means very little (though still more than I’d like) and disregarding someone else who is now the most important person in my life. I love you so much. I am sorry.

I love the simplicity of words. When words are simple. In their raw state with all their meaning and feeling intact. I’m a sucker for embellishing. I’m a sucker for talking incessantly, digging holes.

I want change. Blue. Brown. Anaïs. That would be enough for now. Maybe someplace new to be.

Monday, April 26, 2010

using ‘interview with a vampire’ as an historical source.



So I’m drinking what feels like my tenth cup of coffee today and I’m thinking. I’m thinking that you had better punctuate your sentences properly because I want to relate to you but I can’t when I don’t know where one thought ends and another begins. Maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe I don’t want to relate to you. Maybe it was a serious mistake, a real blunder on my part, to think that I did want to relate to you. To think it would do me any good.

I’m a fan of the day time. It puts things in perspective. I am a silly little girl sometimes and I am glad you made me realise that, however painful and embarrassing it was at the time. This is a relief. Another one.

And you. It is in my nature to fall into these situations. Time-consuming, mildly amusing, but ultimately bad for me. For everyone. It’s a distraction, yes. But I should avoid distractions. Because I’ll never get to leave this thing if I keep getting mixed up with distractions. So I am going to leave, and I’m going to leave distractions behind me. Eyes on the prize and that. Life of Riley? Maybe. But there are more important things. Such as being happy. Fully happy, not needing anyone.

You’re another kettle of fish altogether. I miss you daily. I’ve decided to stop feeling guilty for that. I think it’s important to feel things in their raw, unprocessed state. I think that when Missing You goes and tries to hide itself behind Guilt At Missing You, that’s when I’m in trouble. Double the emotion and only half the clarity.

So I miss you. Still. And I’m not going to bother hiding it. It doesn’t matter if people know it or don’t know it – it doesn’t change a thing. I’m not hoping to get anything or anyone. So people’s opinions are redundant for now. The only opinion that really matters at the moment is mine. Maybe yours too. But I don’t know if I really want to know your opinion. I doubt I’m held in high regard.

My opinion? It’s okay to miss you still. I have decided that. It hurts like you wouldn’t believe. Like old wounds have be reopened. But it’s okay. I’ll be honest, I can’t see how I’ll ever feel any differently about you. About this situation. And I don’t know if I want to. I don’t want this change. I want to rewind time. Go back and do things differently.

That wouldn’t help. I like who I am now, and I wouldn’t be this person if it wasn’t for this situation. But even so. I want this person and you. And a whole new situation. I think that would make me happy. So that, please.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

distractions.

I am so predictable. This was the perfect situation. I created this. With great difficulty. I made this happen. And I had wonderful plans involving alcohol and girls and pretty pictures and nothing set in stone. But I want a bigger distraction than all that. Just like I always do. A distraction that I can put away in the wardrobe or under the bed when I’m ready to deal with life again. But it doesn’t work like that, does it? People don’t work like that. Nobody wants to be a ‘distraction’.

This is brand new. Like all the other times. But I mean it now. Sort of. And ya know what? I think it requires me to be brave. And strong. Stronger and braver than I have been all along. ‘Cause this is it. This is the big one. And if I keep faffing about with my feelings – as in, avoiding them completely – things won’t ever really change. I’ll still dwell. I’m dwelling now. Always.

There are three people on my mind tonight. And in about another fortnight, you may as well add another to that list. I’m a sucker for avoiding feelings I don’t like. I’m sort of looking forward to dealing with all that stuff now. Finally. I know it’s going to sting like hell though. Maybe you were right with all your nastiness. Maybe I am pretending. Of course, I don’t realise I’m pretending until, you know, it’s too late.

And I am happy. And I mean that. It’s just … other things. Ya know that lump ya get in yer throat? I have that. A sure sign that this will be a difficult year. But worthwhile. It’s worth this sacrifice if it means that, you know, what’s in the past is actually in the past. And remains there.

You know what will get me through this? (And I am excited at the very prospect.) Books. Books that I’ll read in the summer in bed and in the garden and everywhere. And late nights outdoors. Cool summer nights. Adventures. Enduring memories I’d rather not endure. That will help, won’t it? Cider. Friends. BBQs in the garden. Singing songs. Working. Keeping busy. Planning. Laughing. Dancing. Debs. Friends.

I can feel all that emotion I’d locked away sort of ebbing towards my eyes and it is so strange. A relief, in a way.

I feel wonderful tonight.

‘I am only responsible for my own heart:

you offered yours up for the smashing, my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ.’

Saturday, April 24, 2010

anaïs nin.

‘I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as an ordinary woman, to enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself.’

Thursday, April 22, 2010

everyone is a building burning.

When I read a good book I feel sad. Even if the book wasn’t sad. Even if it was beautiful. When it ends, I feel like a bit of me went with it. Like I was part of it for a while. And then it ended.

I’m going to make this summer good. I’m going to read lots of books. Spending the summer reading is a lovely thing to do.

A part of me thinks that I am a very dynamic person. Exciting maybe. ‘Fickle’ is probably the correct term. I am very impulsive. And I don’t know what I want. Ever. Right now? Right now I just want to read and soak up sunshine and learn how to bake. And to have someone to spend the summer with, drinking cider. I don’t mean a boy. I mean a friend. I’m beginning to think that I’m not much of a relationship person anymore. I’m too… independent. Or selfish. Both. I got very used to the idea of being able to do whatever I wanted, without there being any consequences. Other than, like, my own raging embarrassment the morning after. But no guilt. No restrictions. Just hilarious stories to tell amidst a raging hangover. Maybe I miss that.

My friends > everything else in the whole wide world.

I would like to rewind maybe, I don’t know, a few days. I would like to have said something else. Something more than simply, ‘Okay’.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

sometimes i still need you.


Sociology and German if it comes down to it. We could live in a lovely little house, floral decor and everything. German oral was fine: I sweat. I finally wrote that English essay. A week later. B3, here I come? Napped. Looking for Alaska. Coffee. Motivation. Study plan? All the lovely colours. Personality. Friends come first. Nothin’, I was just talkin’ to Siobhán. Little things make me happy. Happier than big things. Sunshine. Fresh air. Pulling the curtains at night. Planning hilarious things. Like beaks. Understanding you. Fate. Doing things you’re not supposed to do is always thrilling. Relaying the details of the weird and wonderful situations I get myself into. I love making people laugh. I think it’s my favourite thing in the whole wide world.

you mean that much to me
and it's hard to show
gets hectic inside of me
when you go
can i confess these things
to you
i don't know
embedded in my chest
and it
hurts to hold
couldn't spill my heart
my eyes gleam looking in from the dark
i walk out in stormy weather
hold my words, keep us together
steady walking but bound to trip
should release but just tighten my grip
night time, sympathise
i’ve been working on white lies
so i’ll tell the truth, i’ll give it up to you

Monday, April 19, 2010

never a dull moment.

Okay, so it’s Monday and I wasn’t in school today. Bargained with Mummy Dearest this morning that since I’ve been in, like, the whole time since January, I deserve a day off out of pure emotional exhaustion. I’d promised to use my day off wisely by studying German for the oral tomorrow but, naturally, that didn’t happen.

The most productive things I could manage were making my bed, washing myself and going to buy new facewash. (One which has trisodium EDTA in it, which is very exciting. About as exciting as my life gets really.)

Saturday was nice. Exciting. Melodramatic.

Lessons learned?
Sambuca is to be avoided: it makes your face go numb and your belly do funny flips.
Keep your mouth shut, Emma: other people’s business is none of yours.
Some boys are nice, others are not.
Nothing is without its consequences, even if you choose to ignore them.

Worked Saturday morning and then bought balloons and candles for my Best Friend’s birthday celebrations (the Best Friend who I’m henceforth referring to as ‘Betty’ to, like, protect her identity or whatever). Amy got her a gorgeous chocolate cake and I made Rice Krispy buns (my sole talent). I also made a game for Betty, which involved Blu-Tacking her passport photo onto various people’s bodies – as diverse as Tits McGee and Stumpy McGee and Weight-lifting Man. Hilarious.

Here is a photo of my Best Friend blowing out the candles on her cake:


Only I was, like, a second too late with the camera, so here’s the staged version of her blowing out the candles:


The Strand was packed when we arrived. Ya couldn’t turn a sweet in yer mouth. It was jammers. Impossible to breathe, think or talk.  So Betty and I left. Headed to another public house. This public house was dead. D-E-D. So back to the Strand we trotted, furious. In the end, everyone was standing outside the Strand because of the heat and the concentration of people inside. It was nice. Reminded me of the good ol’ knacker drinkin’ days. Eventually though everyone ended up in Other Pubic House, in the beer garden. Drama ensued. Whatevs.

Strange weekend.

Yesterday was nice, recounting the previous night with Betty. Stupid phrases. Being chased to RHJ’s car. All in all, pretty hilarious. Blast from the past though, all that drama. Are we not a bit grown-up for that nonsense? Evidently not. Oh well. Never a dull moment, as they say.

Bought Company Magazine last night as well as a packet of Hula Hoops in an effort to cheer myself up. It sort of worked. The sentiment, if nothing else.

Off now to catch up on all the homework I didn’t do over the weekend (i.e. all the homework, full stop). Maybe even learn a German roleplay (ooh la la).

Also, I have credit. For, like, the first time since Christmastime. It’s bizarre. Being able to actually contact people in a way that doesn’t involve the numbers 50001? Bizarre. Feel free to text me. Bizarrely, you might actually get a response.

That is all. x

Sunday, April 18, 2010

never a dull moment.

I’m writing this for you. I shouldn’t. But I will always make these mistakes and I will always prefer to make these mistakes. I would rather ruin my life now than wonder in a month if I should have ruined it after all.

There have been so many missed opportunities. I tried. I leapt. And fell. But I knew. I knew what would happen if it all went against plan. So I wasn’t surprised. And I was prepared. And I didn’t expect to ever talk about it with you. I had placed the whole thing under a see-through guise of ‘hypothetical question’. It wasn’t going to be an issue.

Maybe it was wrong. Of course it was wrong. And it makes me a horrible person, the wrong kind of person. I won’t apologise. Maybe I will. Life is short. Too short to apologise for things you don’t regret, and too short to not apologise on sheer principle. So I don’t know what to do.

Maybe it’s not an issue for you. Maybe it shouldn’t be for me. But you know me. And this passive-aggressive outburst won’t surprise you at all. And I’ve wanted that moment for almost three years. Even when we fought like the miserable brats that we are. We are so similar. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

So I’m in this brand new situation and I feel strange. I’m wondering what you are thinking and I’m wondering what I should do, if anything. Maybe these thoughts are redundant and maybe the whole thing means nothing at all. But I am enjoying thinking that it meant … something.







.

you taste like every memory.

Friday, April 16, 2010

busy busy busy.

Right, so I haven’t blogged in nearly a week, which is strange but does go to show just how much effort I’ve been putting into school and stuff lately.

First week back at school after Easter. Got all my Pre’s back. Wanna know the damage? I failed History and Chemistry. History, fair enough, but I didn’t expect to fail Chemistry even though, yeah, fair enough, I did… hmm… no study. However, I have gotten my arse in gear since and am totally serious about getting last year’s much coveted B1. Or at least a C1. What is wrong with me? I like Chemistry.

Everything else was mediocre, though I did get an A2 in both Irish and Art. Second highest in the class in Art, boi, innit? Shocking really considering I totally risked that Monet painted L’absinthe, which he totally did not. A rather horrifying and earth-shattering C3 was ‘achieved’ in English. I was pretty disgusted. But I’ve also got my arse in gear with regards to that too. Even though I didn’t get nearly enough points in the Pre’s for what I actually need, I haven’t lost faith. The complete opposite. And that is quite a nice feeling. Motivation and ambition and the like.

So my Irish oral was last Wednesday. Got Sliocht a hAon so was thrilled. Cá bhfuil m’Umbro top? I did forget the word for ‘big’ but whatever. I got an A2 in my Pre-Oral but I doubt I got anywhere near that in the Real Thing. Áfach, dúirt sí go raibh mo sliocht ar fheabhas mar sin… You never know. (:

German oral on Tuesday. I’m praying for Kate macht einen Schuleraustausch in Deutschland and Arbeit im Hotel in Irland. Ooh baby. General Conversation will a static, sombre affair. This weekend is completely and utterly dedicated to learning German idioms and the like. (Though hopefully I’ll also be able to fit in making a bit of a big deal about my gorgeous best friend having recently turned 18, as well as, like, working. And sleeping. Though those last two are of minimal importance.)

Last Sunday was gorgeous. Absolutely boiling. Nineteen degrees? More than we’re used to. Ever. But especially after that hard winter. I wore a dress. A floral dress. And heart shaped sunglasses (yeah, don’t break, don’t break my heart or I will break your heart shaped glasses). The Boy Wonder arrived in and made my day. We ate ice lollies and lolled about and I made a fancy summery dinner (which essentially just involved putting two baguette things in the oven and dishing out a bit of salad and grating a bit of cheese. Thought that counts.)

The weather has been particularly spectacular since too but I heard through the vine that it’s all set to end on Sunday? Rain and the like then? Typical. It’s been lovely though and appreciated and has been a wonderful reminder that summer is indeed a-comin’, however slowly.

Graduating school on the 28th May. Bizarre really. In Religion on Monday we’re starting those posters which are absolutely ritualistic in our school. Sixth Years have done it since time immemorial, like. Lovely posters covered in photos from when you were small and all your secondary school years. They’re put up in the Snr GPA a few days before the graduation so that the rest of the school gets to peruse them. I think it’s an absolutely gorgeous tradition. Who’d a thunk we’d ever be actually graduating? Bizarre.

Anyway, point is, I’ve got to go print out lovely pictures in the morning. Yay.

And that’s about the extent of it. Exhausted. Had a nice evening with the Boy Wonder, eating crisps and dropping my Ice Berger on the ground. Sniff. And singing songs. iloveyou.

Hope you kids are well. x

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Easter.

Things what I have done over my two-week long Easter break:
Learned two German picture sequences.
Got a job.
Worked (twice!).
Cleaned everywhere.
Laughed.
Cried.
Sang.
Gone on a little adventure with Lover Boy.
Chopped off the mane.
Got drunk.
Argued.
Plotted deadly plots.
Had many a nightmare.
Reminisced.
Made soup.

I am bored. Terribly bored. The kind of bored where nothing is entertaining enough. Tried to learn more German. But got bored of that too.

I have a tenner. Do I go out and slurp down two pints very quickly or do I keep the tenner and become a tenner closer to those sexy specs that I’m currently coveting? (I do love alliteration.)

Families are a pain. Visiting relatives are infuriating. Nephews are gorgeous but I may as well be invisible. And my Baby Jack didn’t remember me.

I put on make-up for this?

hair.

This is typical Emma Hair. Actually, this is typical Emma Behaviour as well. And that would be the Boy Wonder tucked neatly into my neck. I’m wearing his €110 Ray Bans and he’s wearing (and cleverly concealing) my €1.50 shades from Penneys. I have the biggest cow’s lick you’ve ever seen in your life.

Here is my cow’s lick in all its bovine glory. Also, those shades were €1.50 in Penney’s too. And that would be my lovely kettle necklace hanging ‘round my neck. Note the utter shtate of my hair. Cotton-woolly and black roots and splitty-enddy.

Sitting in a lovely makeshift hairdresser’s. In an office chair. Covered in tinfoil. No pain, no gain.

Finished product. Got the whole mess chopped off. My hair hasn’t been this short in, gosh, nearly three years. And, wow, it is blonde. I feel less knackerish now, what with not having dirty black roots. My hair feels so much healthier, even if it has been bleached to within an inch of its life.

Of course, now I’m bored of being blonde. I miss being ginger. But that head up there cost eighty squid to create so it’ll be a while before I can allow myself to dye it again in good conscience.

So there I am anyway. Bobby and cutesie or something. Maybe a bit Simpson-y as well. Oh well. (:

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

update on the exciting life of emma norris.

Right, so Dublin tomorrow. With my meagre funds. Getting the train with my art class to go see the National Museum and the National Gallery and the Book of Kells in Trinners. All to answer one question on the Art Appreciation section of the paper which I can almost guarantee I will avoid in the actual Leaving. I’ll opt for packaging and advertising and the like instead. I don’t have any particular knowledge or skill in this area but I do it ‘cause I like the colours. On the Pre, we had Ribena and Diet Coke so, like, it was exciting.

Tomorrow should be exciting also. Early start. Drive to Kilkenny,  then train to Dublin. Then off on our art appreciating adventures. I can’t wait to act all knowledgeable and cultured. Will make a nice change. I shall be suitably exhausted since my sleep pattern’s all over the place with the Easter holiers. Oh well. Sleepies on the train.

I still haven’t studied. Which is terrible. Although, I did open my German folder yesterday and sort of look at a picture sequence. Which is something. If not a lot. Today shall be productive, I swear!

Today is a gorgeous day… But I’m studying, aren’t I? Yep.

Today is also a day for copious amounts of tea and toast. But I feel like drinking coffee.

My brother is visiting on Friday (hopefully) and bringing his four beautiful sons (and one woman friend thing). I can’t wait. I adore my nephews. Like, you have no idea how happy they make me. They are gorgeous and happy and fun-loving. I cannot wait to see them. :’)

I’m still having those dreams. And I have no idea what to do about them. So I’m going to concentrate on other things, things I can do something (and something productive) about. Studying and sleeping and smiling and the like.

I think that’s about the extent of the goings on in my life currently. Hmm. What a redundant blog post… Oh well.

Sunday, April 04, 2010

mishaps at work.

Had my first night of proper work the other night. Brought my laptop to listen to a few tunes since that building is old and huge and strange. We used to live there for, like, six years and it freaked me out then too. So the music made it feel less empty.

Slogged my arse off, including cleaning the outside of the back door which hadn’t been opened since last winter. Also cleaned the bathroom window and various other windows. I like when glass is clean. I don’t know.

Anyway, there I was, last task of the night, hoovering away in the back office and I looked under the desk. Thought I saw something like paper or something. Didn’t want to hoover it up in case it was important. I bent down to pick it up and investigate. In the dark shadow under the desk, it looked like a clump of dust but felt too substantial in my hand. That’s when I saw its little face. Dead mouse.

Horrified, I threw him out of my hand and, not knowing what to do, hoovered up his little cadaver and ran upstairs to the bathroom to wash my hands, barely thinking to turn off the hoover in my rush. Scrubbed the hands off myself and got the Boy Wonder to ring me to calm my nerves. I couldn’t go back in the office for a good fifteen minutes, terrified that the little mouse mutated in the hoover and had grown huge and had burst out was going to exact his revenge on me for my less than respectful treatment of his little body.

Which he didn’t in the end. But I had the shakes for the rest of the night. And I feel awful for hoovering him up. And I feel awful for him being dead.

owls.

I like projects. I like making things, or editing things or whatever. I had this necklace since, like, my seventeenth birthday. It was cute at the time. It still is cute, but I didn’t like the colour, so I never wore it much. It’s an owl, sort of like this one:

Only silver, which was awful. And the chain was pretty hideous. Cheap looking. So I decided to get rid of the silver plating. Brasso gets rid of silver plating. So I Brasso-ed the necklace. Bit of Brasso on a cloth and surgical gloves and cotton buds for the crevices. Only that was a slow process and I got bored quickly. So my mother put it in an eggcup and poured some Brasso in on top of it.  Of course that didn’t exactly go to plan: the owl part sort of turned out alright, in that it’s copper coloured, but it’s pretty dodgy looking with patches. The chain remained the exact same. But with green bits. 

  
I’m thinking maybe get a different chain. Or a ribbon. And gold spray paint. Trial and error, wha’?