Tuesday, August 31, 2010

super sweet.

Last night was wonderful. Every kind of wonderful. Beautiful, funny, loud, sweet, lovely. Right now, I love my life. Despite once again being terrified about whether or not I’ll have money for college, and the fact that my glands are still swollen (and even more so after last night), I love love love my life. Despite my brother ringing me earlier to call me a dickhead (well, not in so many words but yeah), life is sweet. Super sweet. I like that we stayed awake ‘til it got bright and your arm went dead and, wow, your smile. All of it. I like all of it.

D’ya like him, Emma?
I’m stone mad about him.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

on the inside, you’re pretty vacant.

I’ve been waiting for proper blogging inspiration which only ever comes when I’m sad. So here I am. With nice words and metaphors. Because my glands are swollen and I feel vulnerable and I have been overly-sensitive in the last 48 hours. Like taking-offence-to-everything kind of sensitive. This isn’t me. Not normally, at least. But other people are stupid and I’m a sap and I’m scared and worried and terrified of everything. This thing will go wrong somehow. College will be awful. No one will like me. I’ll never be able to afford a bus ticket home and will subsequently have dirty clothes and a square meal maybe once in a blue moon when my mother can afford the price of a stamp to post me up a few spuds and sausages.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating completely but it feels good to say it and have it be known than to keep it to myself and ferment.

I need and want and would really appreciate a hug. Since that will not happen until tomorrow at the earliest, I have to find something else with which to cheer myself up. I am going to have a shower and exfoliate my skin and de-spotify my face and drink lots of water and read The Book Thief and go to sleep. And also take off this awful hot pink nail polish. And deliberate on my colour choice for my nails for tomorrow’s Debutante Ball (round two). I’m thinking gold, only I don’t own gold nail polish. If anyone would like to provide me with gold nail polish before 5 o’clock tomorrow, that would be okay with me, okay? Okay. Otherwise, I’m going with red or something queer like that which will clash horrifically with my lovely silky blue dress. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ll clash horrifically with everyone at the Debs since my dress is so very un-Debsy. Oh well. Story of my life. (Bizarrely, by reminding myself just how odd I am, I have managed to cheer myself up somewhat. Which in itself just reinforces my weirdness.)

In other news, last night’s much anticipated night of drinking and dancing and having a laugh was a complete and utter flop. I’m not even sure why. It might have had something to do with two of my friends not getting past the bouncers at the pub, despite the fact that were eighteen and nineteen respectively. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was in terrible humour anyway yesterday (sensitive and swollen glands – see paragraph one). It might have just been one of those nights. Whatever the reason, the night was crap and its misery seems to have leaked into today as well. Today was crap too. But dinner was nice and I worked and now I’ve blogged and I feel fulfilled. Though that’s probably just indigestion from my second helping of dinner. Whatever.

Also, miraculously, my sister will be around tomorrow to do my tan and make-up. This is a miracle. I cannot do tan. I just can’t. I’m good with make-up but not when it’s combined with tan. When it’s combined with tan, you’re not allowed to have a milky face, which is what I usually have. This is where my sister comes in. Prevents me from looking like a gothy, vampire type person and more like a sun-kissed, goddess type person. Something to that effect, at least.

I think that about sums up my thoughts and fears and all the rest for today. Debs pictures on Tuesday, if I survive the photograph process what with me being a vampire and therefore unable to be caught on camera.

Ooh, one more thing: What is wrong with me? I feel so phenomenally fucking vulnerable.


You're ever so cool
And I'll be a fool if you let me.
I'm ever so shy,
You're ever so shy,
We're ever so shy.

Friday, August 27, 2010


That last photo of me and my wonderful date for the evening would be lovely if it weren’t for his grimace. A fantastic night though. The end of an era. Again.


My ‘summer staple’ shoes hardly lasted the summer. Maybe six weeks. Here’s the autopsy report:

You had a good life, Shoes. RIP. (I threw them in the bin today. It was pretty traumatic. I died a little inside, too.)


1. I look at you now and see my best friend. I love that feeling. I’ll always love you. This is nice and sweet and normal. I am so proud of you, by the way. I’m proud of the maturity that you sometimes pretend not to have.

2. I never thought I’d see the day. You have the most beautiful smile. And wonderful eyes. And this is lovely. It’s a pity about the timing but that’s no big thing. Can’t have everything. Are they called chicken burgers here?

3. We’re drifting apart, aren’t we? I thought it was something I’d done, but I don’t know if I’ve done anything different, you know? Maybe it’s just the way things go. I don’t know. We’re not the way we used to be.

4. I really do believe in this: ‘We all remain better friends at a slight distance’. A slight distance.

5. Life is good. College is soon. Better blog post soon. Maybe. My thoughts are not linear lately. But life is sweet.

Sunday, August 22, 2010


This will be a picture post. I’m scared I’ll say too much. I’ll hide behind these instead:

Fucking Kidding

How Dramatic

Friday, August 20, 2010

LC results.

Wanna know the damage? 345 points. If Arts in Cork goes down, I’ll take that. If not, I’ll repeat. It’s no big thing. (: I’m delighted with the grades I got, I really am. I only wish that they were worth more points. Oh well!

Results night was amazing. The best night out I’ve had in a long, long time. My feet are still sore from dancing. I was hoarse from screaming and shouting by about nine o’clock that night. Perfect.

I am still paying dearly for that night of drinking and tomfoolery. But I have blonde hair (again). And the debs is looming. And life is good.


Monday, August 16, 2010

hello again.

So I haven’t blogged in almost three weeks. Did you miss me? In a way, I needed that time away from the Internet. It’s a distraction. A horrible distraction. Without the Internet these past three weeks, I’ve been reading more and thinking more. And the thinking is strange. Because I tend to stay up well into the small hours on the Internet ‘til I get tired enough to sleep. That works. I don’t have to think. Lately, I’ve been lying in bed every night in the dark, thinking. Thinking about everything. And reaching grim conclusions. I can pin it all – this unhappiness – on that moment, that moment almost twelve months ago when I said I didn’t want what you were offering. That was my fatal mistake. Now, I would give anything for what you were offering. But I don’t think you’ll offer again.

I have been wonderfully and flamboyantly awful these past twelve months. You told me so. I am not the person I used to be. Am I a dim? Maybe all the cider I’ve consumed this year has affected my brain. Am I promiscuous? I didn’t think there was much wrong with kissing, but I’m beginning to resent those drunken encounters.

You don’t love me anymore. You said it. You tell me now that you do, but I think you’re humouring me. You never used to humour me. Don’t start now.

“A heartbreak isn’t always as loud as a bomb exploding. Sometimes, it could be as quiet as a feather falling and the most painful thing is, nobody hears it but you.”

I have three rules. Three brand new rules guaranteed to get me through this brand new period of distress. Lovely. No cutting, no drinking, no boys.

I wish you were here. More importantly, I wish you wanted to be here.

That thing. This new development. I’m not jealous. Not at all. I’m greedy though. And I think, more than it stung me, it reminded me of how fantastically and obliviously lonely I am. I won’t be able to talk to you for about a week, after which time I’ll calm down, laugh it off and tell you good luck and best wishes and congratulations. In the meantime, I’ll turn this lovely anger I’m feeling inward on myself and see how I get on with that.

On a more factual than emotional note, Leaving Cert results are out Wednesday. Even as I type that, no feeling other than complete and utter indifference floods through me. Well, not floods. It ebbs at best. I don’t care. I dreamt the other night that I got 62 points. I wish for 405. (Actually, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately but that’s neither here nor there.) I really don’t mind what happens anymore.

Also, here is a picture of my debs dress:

It is the best picture I could find though that’s not for lack of trying: I spent so long searching for ‘pink D├ębut dresses’ that there are now pink dots in front of my eyes. The dress will obviously look nicer on me. And I won’t be wearing a bolero. Because boleros are for cunts.

I think this post sums up my feelings at the moment. Hope you enjoyed. Naturally, I’ll be blogging more often now and after this post, they’ll probably be a bit more upbeat. But who knows?