Saturday, September 18, 2010

awkward confession.

I really like scaffolding. When I see scaffolding, I get excited. I know that makes me a freak. I like walking under the tunnel bit, especially if all the light is blocked out. It’s enclosed and small and it feels safe, despite its precariousness. Some people are claustrophobic. I adore small spaces. Scaffolding. Lifts. Box rooms. Train tunnels. Tunnels under motorways. But especially scaffolding.

The last one is one of my favourite types of scaffolding.

Yes, I agree: I too think I was dropped on my head as a child.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

in which i update.

There is no time for anything. It's all a huge rush and I'm feeling overwhelmed. Already. A week and a half in and I give up. Things are clashing. Do I go to the drama workshop, the Out in UL meeting (where there'll be food and lovely gay people) or do I see RHJ who I ent seen in, like, a week? Or a few days. Whatever.

Everyone is so touchy lately. Me especially. I miss Mummy Dearest. And having oodles of free time. Also, my housemates think I'm weird. I mean, I am weird but that's neither here nor there. You know what? I didn't even want that microwave. I will never use it. If you'd bought something useful like, I dunno, a few cans of cider or a bottle of port, then we could talk. But a microwave? Really? I'm not a huge fan of processed foods covered in radiation for good measure. I dunno.

And the printer won't print my page. My one page. I feel like an idiot waiting beside it for a half an hour. For one page. And my diary is full already. I never use a diary. Like, you know the way you always get one at Christmas but you never, ever use it? I got a lovely one off my sister last Crimbo and I'm actually using it. This is mainly because I have the memory capacity of a sprout and writing stuff down is the only way I'll know what, where and when I'm supposed to be doing something.

Hmm. So I'm in the library now and it's ten to six. The Out in UL meeting is at seven. What to do, what to do. Go home? It's a ten minute walk in, like, and I don't think I'm in the humour for it. I could sit here for another hour but that's a bit tragic, isn't it? Although, I do have this project thing to be doing, I could start researching that. It's on the Irish Literary Revival. I know after my history project, I said I never wanted to hear the name Maud Gonne again but I dunno. I do know an awful lot about Inghindhe na hÉireannn now and it'd be interesting to tie that in with what they did with regard to Irish literature. Oh, Emma. You are a loser.

I had a lovely sandwich today. It cheered me up considerably. My chat with Emer as well as purchasing a glossy magazine and a pink Sharpie pen also helped. And I had a pint of cider. At four o'clock in the day. How often does that happen? Never. It was pretty satisfying, it has to be said. Sadly, though, my experience of college life thus far has been tame. Very tame. If I had lots of money, there would be less sobriety. Unfortunately, I have only meagre funds to last me 'til Friday. Wish me luck. Serious luck. Felix felicis luck. (Need to stop referencing Harry Potter.)

As part of my 'getting involved' in college, I am now Health and Safety Officer of the UL Drama Soc, as well as Web Administrator. I'm pretty excited about the latter: I'm in charge of the society's website and social networking sites. Maybe that's not a big deal but it makes me happy.

In other news, I am waiting patiently for tomorrow evening. It shall be sweet. Lots of plans and maybe none of them will come to fruition but I really don't mind. I am just well and truly looking forward to seeing you.

Ooh, I finally got my student ID today. (I look a bit crap in it but what harm. I look sleepy. That's pretty true-to-life though, I suppose.) I also bought that sticker for the back of it that says I'm eighteen and makes me a member of The Stables Club. I don't even know. (People keep talking about the stables and the paddock. Are we all horses or something? It is bewildering.) I'm not getting asked for ID anymore, which is bizarre. I feel like I'm hoodwinking the people in the pub or the off license. I have to remind myself that it is legal and that the few cans of Strongbow I left in Emer's gaff last night are not contraband.

I am a weirdo.

Friday, September 10, 2010

birthday, college, newton faulkner.

It’s been a week, hasn’t it? I know this because the last time I blogged I said, ‘It’s my birthday in a week’. And now it is my birthday. Well, now it isn’t. ‘Cause it’s two in the morning on 10th September. My birthday was yesterday then. The 9th. I am now the ripe old age of nineteen.

This year was my first ever birthday away from home, which was interesting. I am now a college student (confirmed my modules last night!) and have flown the coop. Sort of. I’ve ‘flown’ to UL but I’ll be back every weekend. This weekend, I am well and truly looking forward to my fancy birthday dinner with RHJ and going for beverages with the lads and seeing my mammy, not to mention my own bed, and most importantly (and tragically romantically) seeing you. I miss you.

But college is good. I am now a student of New Media and English, which is pretty perfect really. I have a lovely friend whom I met on my very first day. She is as insane as I am and we are doing the same course and it is wonderful. Are ye Bríd?! Olive! Two hundred euro!

Fresher Fest was a nice birthday present. I didn’t feel like forking out €18 for a ticket so my best friend paid for it as a birthday gift.

Newton Faulkner was lovely. He rather randomly ended up in my English lecture this morning (Academic Reading and Writing, EH0014) and sang us a song. It was pretty amazing. Like, an amazing start to the day. He was lovely at the Fresher Fest too. He was followed by Ocean Colour Scene who are a bit too nineties for me. Before my time, like. Still a good howl though.

As with every birthday, I got kind of sad earlier. Tension. Tiredness. Illness (I still have that cold, with a cough for added fun). My eyes welled up. But then someone said something funny and I had two glasses of cider and had a bit of a dance (very inconspicuous, therefore very unlike me). Then I felt okay.

An okay birthday was had. Considering I hate my birthday by default and usually expect the very worst from it, this birthday was sort of alright. And now I am nineteen. And old. And have crows feet. I dunno. I think I could work this look.

My first week of college has been interesting. Stressful. Smelly. Rainy. Humid. Good. Scary. Wonderful. It’s been everything. I really like it. I may or may not post something with a bit more substance about college, depending on how much time I have. Sadly, things aren’t looking good on the blogging front. Even though I’m an arts student and therefore a waster with very few lectures a week, I have no time for anything, least of all waffling on like this. Not this week anyway. I want to say, ‘Hopefully things will quieten down’, but I’m actually really enjoying the rush. Although whenever I laugh, I sound like I smoke forty cigarettes a day and I’m never going to get rid of this dirty cough unless I get a decent bit of rest soon. I don’t have a lecture ‘til one o’clock tomorrow so I shall indulge in a bit of a lie-in.

This was a poor update on my life. My sincerest apologies. I shall deliver a more cohesive report on the beginning of my third level education as soon as is humanly possible. Okay? Okay.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

in which i complain & covet.

I feel sick. Just awful. Ya know that weird headache you get when you have a cold? I have that. And I am weak. And hungry. But there is nothing to eat. Only carbohydrates. I do not want carbohydrates now (which is very unlike me, by the way). The electricity’s going to be off all day tomorrow meaning I’ll have to get up at seven to have a shower. Then the blesséd job interview at one o’clock, after which I’ll paint my nails green and, money providing, head to college. College. Actual third level education. Never thought I’d see the day. (I mightn’t yet though what with me being born under a bad sign and into the depths of poverty. Hurry up, money!)

On a cheerier note, my birthday’s in a week. Nineteen. Weird. Old. I suppose it’s okay though because I still only look fifteen. Ideal birthday present? I really, really want a red beret.

happiness/ sadness.

It's actually not even funny how much you wreck my head and ruin my buzz. Every time I talk to you and try to be nice, I end up wanting to kill you. I give up. Weirdo. I know I was a dickhead before, but you should move on. Things are not as bad as you pretend they are. You have a fresh start so why on earth are you still acting like a miserable bastard? I know some of your future plans have been put on the backburner for a while but that’s no reason to act the maggot. I think you’re just that way towards me though. Like you want to make me feel guilty. Sorry, but I don’t. My life is good. And I don’t need or want to rub it in your face. I have lovely things in my life that I don’t tell you about. I know you’d taint them anyway. You’d say something horrible and obnoxious. I’d get angry at you but it wouldn’t matter because you’d have already said it and smeared the metaphorical faeces that is your cynicism all over my happiness.

I think you were right before. I think you did do this. You are always so phenomenally fucking miserable. I suffer from depression and I’m not half as bad as you are. I have Bad Days and I cry but I am nothing to how dreary and bleak you are every day of the week. Even when good things happen, you’re not happy. Unimpressed, indifferent. Cynical. Miserable. You could try to be happy. Try. And I am not one to suggest that true happiness is as easy as that, but I do think a lot of the warmth people have comes from wanting to be happy, you know? Not just wanting to be happy, but wanting and being willing to do something about it. If you adopt a positive attitude, things will get better. You can at least try.

That’s always people’s advice to me on my Bad Days. And it’s impossible to act upon. Cheer up. Think positive. Look at all the good things in your life. Not possible. Sorry. But on my Good Days, I try. I aim to look at things in a positive way, to look on the bright side. It could be worse. What harm! Everything happens for a reason. Maybe some of you reading this will think it’s bullshit, that it’s too idealistic an approach to life, but I sleep just fine at night and I’m happier for having a positive attitude. And sometimes I really do think it’s as simple as that: life is your attitude to it.

DeterminedYou Pretend

Each Morning

Whatever Comes NextYour Habit