Yesterday

Late evening, I stepped outside work for a quick smoke in the peace, cold, dark... watching nothing of interest. I thought about how this was my last day being 21 - just hours to go - and smiled.

All I did yesterday was what I normally do. Sleep in; late and rushing. Messy hair. College. Lunch on the run. Hour of two in the pub with a friend I don't see enough of. Work. Make tea and coffee for bright-eyed foghlaimeoiri (oblivious to the putrid grudges and politics in the place), and serve them smilingly while sipping one of my thickest, soupiest coffees. Home to play Xbox with my housemate and a can or two. Out for "one" to "celebrate". Fast food. Had a look at my diary - deadlines, meetings... bullshit. Late to bed.

Fairly routine... dotted with plenty of solitary cigarettes - one of my favourite ways to break up any day. 3 minutes (almost to the second) to myself, my breathing, my nicotine.

Not the most special day to anyone else - but to me it was perfect.

All I wanted to do... was what I always do. On my last, lovely day being 21.

It gets overwhelming sometimes, but fuck it. I've got it pretty good.

Mar fhocal scoir...

I’m sorry.

I was stupid. The first time, I guess those silly cries for attention were… well… exactly that. Another time, another place; a bad place. Pathetic, really, but fitting. Because I was pretty pathetic.

The second time… well, I never thought I’d resort to such childishness again. I’ve never acted like that before. Pathetic. But, I guess, “drunk me” (the “me” who sometimes fights the rest of me) was crying out… for attention? A desperate attempt, maybe, to admit that I really cared. ‘Cos, God knows, I’d never admit it sober. Or even drunk, it seems. Instead, I tried to obscure it – the urge to send, do, say something was too strong – so I tried to mask it with “accidental” nonsense. Pathetic.

My biggest problem was that I never trusted you. Not for a second. I wanted to, but, after every good night, good conversation, I’d go home and sleep would escape me. I couldn’t just enjoy it. I poisoned it, and my memory of it all, with doubt and fear. (Ugh, this is sounding awfully sappy)
Maybe that’s why I wanted to drag those times out for hours longer than made sense. Maybe I wasn’t fair; I forgave – or, said I did – but I didn’t, couldn’t, forget. I should have tried harder to – as someone who called myself a friend.

I don’t care, though. I don’t think either of us have anything to be ashamed of.

We’re, arguably, as much of a mess as each other… sometimes.

I wasn’t angry for long. Then I, successfully, convinced myself I still was. And, when that wore off, I was just a little sad. It’d be nice to keep in touch. So, here it is. Hope you’re well. Doubt you’ll read this, but, if you do, think about it.

It’s be nice to be real friends, like we used to imagine we were.

Longevity

Been neglecting this li'l blog o' mine recently... like everything else. This weird obsession I've had with being busy busy busy - filling every second - getting involved and getting overwhelmed and revelling in it - has passed. Finally. After, what, two years?

Bad timing, considering I'm now in final year. Obsessive motivation would be very helpful right now. But other things are more important. Slowly realising that, so I am.

But, whatever. Like every year, this year will pass - too quickly - and I'll look back on it and wonder why I stressed about it all.

Had a funny conversation with my housemate, and old schoolfriend, today. About long-term relationships - and lack thereof. It's funny, having HAD long-term relationships is seen as a good thing, usually. Having never had one is "worrying". Can't commit. Can't make it work. No stamina? Blah.

I can't imagine why it's seen so negatively. Spending 3, 4, 5 years with a person - just to find out they were wrong for you anyway and that it was, essentially, a waste of both of your time, isn't something to brag about. It's fine. It happens. It's not a sign of a person being any more reliable or committal than any other.

My housemate/schoolfriend sometimes bemoans having never had one. Ridiculous. I've only had one, and, despite the fact it had a huge, interesting, devastating, enriching, and eye-opening effect on me, and my life... I've honestly, arguably, learned more from the shorter ones.

The ones that've lasted an hour and half.
The ones that've lasted two dates (if even).
Two weeks.
Two months.
What have you!

It's no harm - and no measure of a person - to have never had a long-term "thing". It happens, it's life, and it's fairly unremarkable, really... and mostly up to chance, or mistakes (which can indeed happen to even the most discerning daters.)

It's no more remarkable, in fact, than a person who jumps from one long-term thing to the next, with mere hours between (you know who you are!) It's not a badge of honour. Neither bad, nor good. Just the way it is.

Just saying....

Go outside... Taste the air!

Winter's here! :D I stepped outside and got a rush of energy - just breathed it in. Memories of last winter and Christmas filled my head. I love the winter air; it's so pure and fresh and life-giving. There's a change in everything today. Just the lift I needed. I feel way more positive than I did this morning.

Spent the day doing some housework and reading my notes and thinking about all the horrible things I have to do for college this year. Felt really overwhelmed...

Not now, 'though. This is my favourite time of year - MY time of year. My lungs, my mind, my world feels clearer. (My room too, thanks to a good clean-up.)

It's almost like being at the seaside - or out on an Island. Good air. Every year I forget how good I feel in winter - then it just hits me like this. Cool surprise. :) (again!)

HOW did I miss this?

National Punctuation Day was yesterday. There I was, raising my drink to Arthur (and parsnips..), when I should have also saved a toast for this wonderful, noble holiday. My new favourite holiday, in fact. 'Till Halloween, at least. (If it even lasts that long...)

I was reading an award-winning novel the other day and there were countless, blatant mistakes that really took from the story. It's hard to concentrate and lose yourself in the text when you come across a sentence that must be re-read. Shame. Great story.

This is it, though; great writers aren't necessarily great editors...
And vice-versa.

Being back in college is weird. It'll be a while before I get back into this internet obsession thing. I shook it off over the summer but it's coming back, I think. Means I'll spend more time here.

Probably not, 'though... I'll be quite busy this year. Scared? Nah. Projects seem doable. Altogether I've come up with about 30 different ideas; between dissertation ideas, radio package ideas, articles, etc... I need one good idea for each assignment. All different. All I've come up with to date are... well... shit.

Terrible. Rubbish. But, there's 30 of them. And the more shitty ones I come up with, the closer I get to the good ones. Maybe I could even dust off some old ideas, or really twist and mould these shit ones into something resembling a possibility.

We'll see.

Rough night ahead. Long story. Wishing for a migraine to get me out of it... No luck so far. Fuckers are never around when I need them. And I pulled enough fake ones in secondary school to know it's not worth it - people stop taking you seriously and you end up in HELL when you DO get an attack and no one accepts your excuses, or has any sympathy.

Did I hear that right?

I think Lenihan said there that the property/land/assets/whatever only has to rise by 10% over the next 10 years in order for NAMA to break even...

Well... that doesn't sound too bad.

Still, 'though - I do not trust it.

A funny doomed feeling..

Watching the NAMA thing in the Dail on telly - stressful. Not able for it, but can't look away. Between this and Lisbon 2, I've got an awfully sickly sinking feeling - but all I can do is watch as it all goes to pot. A lot of talk going on, all quite hopeless to be honest.

Christ. Recessions happen! It's natural; crap, and tough, but natural. The economy ebbs and flows and none of this knee-jerk panic is going to help - this bizarre plan is insane, and too risky to justify. Yet I'm listening to the bastards try and fail at doing just that... and wondering how they sleep.

I s'pose Cowen probably drinks himself into a coma, his huge red nose swelling with saturation, and whatever guilt he SHOULD feel, numbed. My mum said she feels sorry for him - Bertie having landed him in this, and all. But, I'm sorry, who was the Finance Minister under Bertie, again? Rudolf himself.

Anyone else up for a sesh on Lisbon night? Either to celebrate or mourn - whichever.

"May you live in interesting times..."


Bollox.

Stop asking me my "Plan" for next year...

There's a smell of silage in this e-cafe. ick.

Lots of little things that've happened over the summer have gotten me thinking - hard - about what I wanna do. It also helps that people are constantly aaasking...

Well, what I mean is, what I wanna do in the future. I know EXACTLY what I wanna do NOW...

Right now, I wanna mess around and enjoy my days - and I have been. A lot!
I wanna hold on and embrace the playful, spontaneous attitude that abandoned me for a while until, recently, resurfacing and making everything more fun again.
I went to the pharmacy the other day and came back with a painting - well, a print of a photo - which I hung on my wall. It's arguably the most pointless waste of money I've ever bought but, now, is my absolute pride and joy. It's a lovely scene from Dún Chaoin in Kerry. Best bit is, I've BEEN there - I remember passing that exact spot and going, wow, I'd LOVE to take a picture that captures just how vertigo-y and awe-smacking this sight is. And this photographer did just that. Lovely. (Handy.)

I'm so chilled lately. Call me crazy, but I put it down to quitting drinking Coke! I did drink an atrocious amount, y'know... and it was fucking with my insides sumthin' AWful...

Maybe it's more than that.

Anyway...all ramblings aside - what I wanna do next year when I finish college is a mystery. Why? Because I wanna do exactly as I'm doing now. Keep letting things happen, taking stupid chances and getting involved in weird shit and reaping the benefits. Call it luck, call it balls, call it life, but I've always gotten what I wanted - well, I've not always know what that was until it came around, but basically I've always landed on my feet.

My plan for when I finish college? Roll with it. Follow the flow. Do EXACTLY what I've always done - which is, NOT make a plan. Just see.

It usually works.

And the best decisions are the ones made at the last minute.

Sure, that's the sole reason I'm sitting here right now.. Grafton St.'s extortionate little e-cafe, on a mediocre Dublin day, after work in Spex's, checking my timetable for my final year - starting this day fortnight. (Journalism, of all things - what was I thinking?)

(Exactly.)

Clarity?

Well, clarity is probably, definitely, the wrong word... But I'm suddenly thinking differently - and seeing things... differently. It's weird. And I wonder will it last, or is it just shock. If it lasts... then... well, that's gonna be weird.

How much can a person take? Could it have been anyone? What happened? Of all the little things, which was the straw?
Which word was it? Which breath broke it? Which piece last fit... and finished him?
I can think of other people far more likely than him. And they'll live lovely long lives. (Please God) Wait, no! Not that they're LIKELY.. Jesus, no! ..but, at least, I could've made some sense of it... if... oh I dunno.

How can I keep doing what I'm doing when I can't bear to turn out like them? The vampiric scum with their gaunt faces and greedy eyes and their cameras bulging from their anoraks, snapping at us from the church gate... Straining to see over the crowd... Reading the latest, it's clear one or two had the nerve to come inside.

And I think about friends I've lost touch with - taking for granted that I'll never speak to them again. Shit, like - I'd kick myself if something happened to them and I'd left things as they were.... but will i do anything about it? Will they? No. That's not how it works. (I wish it was.)

People always say what a shame it is that we only seem to come together at funerals.
"It's ridiculous - we should organise something soon!"
But it doesn't happen.... 'Till someone else dies.

All the time people say Life is Short - people don't really let it sink in, 'though. Those are heavy words if you really listen to them.

Rrrrrrgh. Rough morning. Home. Bed. Enough already.

I'll do the college thing tomorrow.

Relief

So, as expected, the vultures had the church surrounded... and if there's a picture of the dirty look I gave them in the paper tomorrow, then, so be it... Damn those shameless fuckers.

But it'll be yesterday's news tomorrow, and the family can - hopefully - have some well-needed rest.

It's a shit of a thing to happen.

It's funny - until the priest said it today, I had COMPLETELY forgotten about the charity box at his 21st last year. How could I forget? Rather than presents, drinks, etc, all he wanted was for people to throw a few bob - a small donation - into a charity box by the door. Sweetheart.

Hearing people talk about him made me feel a little better. Especially that girl - who'd been talking to the girl in hospital - who'd said He wasn't himself. The person who came into the house was NOT him. And if SHE can say that, and forgive him, then... that settles it.

I'm not sure what to do with myself for the rest of the day. Home. Bed. I dunno. For now I'm online. There WAS a good reason - I'm sure of it - but, instead of whatever it was, I've been poking around Youtube, and googling news reports, and obsessing (and raging) about them, and generally wasting time.

Oh yeah, that was it; I was meant to check my college email.

Surreal

Life keeps getting weirder and weirder.

I've a funeral to go to on Thursday. I'm glad it's soon to be over and done with. Even gladder that the rota unexpectedly changed and I've the whole day off - and, therefore, don't have to give an explanation for something I'd rather not talk about.

When it's done and...laid to rest... the fucking papers may, finally, shut up about the whole incident.

Wishful thinking.

I don't really want to be a journalist anymore, to be honest. Not after the last few days' bullshit "reporting". Vultures. Soulless hounds. Vicious bastards.

I can't imagine what the families are going through. Reading that shit can't possibly make it any easier.

The whole city's talking about it. Everyone has their bullshit 2cents-worth to give. Everyone's an expert, a critic - everyone has an opinion.

But, I suppose, if I didn't know better, I'd gossip and coo and gasp about it too.

And, y'know, I genuinely doubt that (were I a clueless journo) I'd have written it any differently. In fact, I predicted it all - all the reports - the way it was handled and spun - almost word for word. That scares me.

This sort of thing usually happens to "other" people. Not real people. Not nice people. Not people you worked with and thought you knew.

RIP, a chara.

Btw..

I didn’t mention this (mainly because I forgot) but, the other night (with the haunted house and the antics in Dave’s living room), Helen* decided to have a little heart-to-heart with me.

Aoife, I’m drunk enough now to say this – I’m really sorry if I was mean to you in Primary School.

Err… shut your face! Ha. No, seriously, we don’t need to talk about it. Water – bridge – all that!


No but, I don’t really remember, but I know I was horrible – etc etc etc
She seemed a little ruffled and verging on upset.

I assured her - don’t worry about it! Honestly, of ALL of them, she was the least. All she did was what she had to do – going along with them. Unlike the rest, she was never actually cruel to me.

Like, even those who were, I couldn’t care less about, and wouldn’t even accept an apology from. Not because I’m angry – far from it! But because I genuinely don’t care – we were kids. I was the new girl, I wasn’t liked. But kids are cruel and kids are stupid because – whether or not they turn out to be bad people later– they have their reasons and/or they don’t know any better. They don’t think. I barely remember, anyway. I’ll admit I don’t wanna rush out and make best best friends with them or anything, but I don’t resent anyone. (Despite the odd little rant…)

It was good of her, I guess, and (though drunk) she insisted that, had she the mind she has now, she’d have acted differently. But, sure, we can all say that. We can say that the very day after something happens. We can say it mere MOMENTS after. We’d do it differently. That’s my point, 'though; that’s why she oughtn’t feel bad.

Which, btw, is something I should probably apply to myself.

I did things wrong too, ‘though. And I was just a kid. And kids are stupid. So I should forgive me like I’ve forgiven and forgotten them. It wasn’t MY fault, either.
But I kicked myself for years – convinced it was my fault: I moved to Limerick and was picked on and was convinced it would have been different if I’d acted differently. If I'd been different, I'd've been accepted - I told myself. So, I'll be different.

I’ve said this before – I was convinced that only by moving to Dublin could I prove to myself that, whatever I did wrong then, I wouldn’t do again. With the mind I have now. But that’s stupid for lots of reasons. One being that peoples’ opinion of you isn’t something you can control – no matter what front you adopt or what you say. Neither can you control how you’ll get on with each other – some people click, others don’t. (And some who click end up hating each other, and some who don’t end up loving each other) It’s not something you can control – and yet I fight that reality with everything I’ve got – I have for years!

After moving to Limerick, I learned to mask my real self. Trying (too hard) to come across as smart/bubbly/friendly/confident/cool/outgoing/whatever in varying company – never quite relaxing and never quite honest until truly comfortably with a person. When I would drop the act(s), I’d suddenly become very aware of the fact I was ”gone all quiet” – and I’d be so distracted by my lack of input that I’d almost be too busy (thinking of something to say) to listen to anyone else!

And if, naturally, I AM quiet and a little reserved, and shy away from the centre of attention, then so be it. But I don’t feel I am. I, for some reason, believe I need an act in order NOT to be… but I still don’t feel that’s me. It wasn’t before Limerick, anyway. But that was a long time ago. And I doubt I’m half as inept as I’ve convinced myself I am.

I don’t really know anymore, to be honest. Really, I think it’s ALL me. Rather than putting on a front, it’s that I'm putting a facet of myself forward… maybe? That’s a nice way to put it. And, at least, absolutely everyone does it.

“Be yourself”? Silly expression. I say, which one?? Personalities are changeable – you are who you are, added to who you want to be, multiplied by who you’re around.

Or...something!

*Fake name. Which is pointless. As the readers of this blog will either have never met her, or know exactly who I’m talking about.

“Any boys on the scene?”

Honestly, what sort of question is that?

Although, to be fair, when there isn’t... it cuts down on the breadth of conversation a little bit.

Oh, there’s plenty else to chat/moan/boast/gossip/debate about… but little that’s quite as satisfying as a good bitch/ponder-out-loud/comparative discussion on the latest “interest”.

And at least, when there’s an “interest”, it’s usually pretty interesting.

And coupled-up folk can feel self-conscious if they catch themselves rambling on about their someone around singles - especially those with nothing to report. God knows why. It’s not like giving up smoking, when you’ll start craving a fix.


Still… that being the only downside, it’s not the worst, is it? :)

Back to...everything! (and PICS!)

Spent the last few days at home, but back in Dublin as of yesterday morning when I ran straight from train to house to work (got a taxi from the station to within 5mins of my house when I got stuck behind the Lord Mayor, who decided to trundle down the road I needed... as slow as...the slowest coach EVER... so had to get out and run home, then run to work.)

Today wasn't tooo bad at work... but yesterday... Oh yesterday...

First day back after a holiday is aaawful. Even if it was only a few days. Going home isn't really a "holiday", I know, whatever, but it felt like one - I had TIME. Loads of time! And could do what I liked for a while. Besides - I hadn't been home since the first week of June.

Had fun though! Stayed with my cousins one night - few drinks, few laughs.
Had a couple friends over for some DVDs and a catch up - turned into a few cans, packs of crisps, a treck to a haunted house, and bad karaoke/dancing in Dave's living room (???)
Went on a mini road-trip to Clonmel to pick up my friend's NOT-apparently-robbed purse, and do a bit more socialising...

It was 90% fun. There was also a migraine (graaagh - but at least it's the Test Month, so it's good, right? Research purposes and all that -- suffer on!) and a few moments when I thought about quitting work and coming home to try be there for/sort out some stuff with my family - but sensibility and reality set it, so that urge passed. I don't think it's as bad as I'm afraid (read: convinced) it is - I'm sure it seems worse 'cos I'm away... or something... Besides - who knows if I could even DO any good?

Anyway, here's a selection of scenes from the trip home. The last one's a house that - apparently, I hear - was intended for India. But lies in a small town in Co. Limerick. Apparently, the contractor was a spa, and mixed up the plans, and the poor little aul' house that he was MEANT to build is in India somewhere.

Creeping up to the haunted house...


The "entrance" (no pics inside, unfortunately! Too busy freaking each other out - forgot about camera)


Spooky!


Old Schoolfriend/Future Housemate & me!


Out of India

The Clinic

So, went to a specialised migraine clinic in Cork yesterday... results? Well... hopeful, I suppose.

It was interesting! He finally confirmed for me that my local GP is the eejit I thought he was (tried for years to convince me I had eye strain, and told me to wear my glasses etc... growl...) and the specialist didn't see me, but his assistant/partner fello (who had a very nice, well-chosen pair of specsavers glasses - Osiris, double bridge... obsessed? Me? No!) did. Now, I must say, he was very thorough and helpful. And he took me seriously... (refreshing! As I'm sure most migraine sufferers are sick to death of stupid sceptical doctors) and the only part of the consultation that pissed me off was when, before leaving the room to fetch the "Big Guy", this assistant/partner dude handed me a patronising information leaflet... and a freaking migraine diary. Another freaking migraine diary. I could have cried.

My mum had come with me on the bus and, on the way, I had ranted about how I didn't want to be fobbed off with yet ANOTHER diary. I've been dealing with these stupid things for 10 years now - I KNOW my triggers and I KNOW what to avoid, but what frustrated me more than anything is these damn diaries and information leaflets. Know your triggers, reduce your attacks. Fuck that. Easy for YOU to say! And triggers can be food, alcohol etc, and that's fair enough - but some of my major ones include sudden changes in the weather, irregular sleep, missed or delayed meals, stress, changes in routine (including HOLIDAYS! Yes! Holidays are a big trigger for most people. Even without the heat, altitude on the plane, missing sleep and meals, and drinking etc, just the simple fact that they are a sudden change in routine can be enough to knock you out with a headache for half your trip! BULLSHIT. So I can't do ANYTHING?!)

Sitting waiting for them to come back, I became nearly hysterical with fury - I am NOT going to live my life like a China Doll! YOU try avoiding stress - LIFE is stressful!

Imagine it! Afraid to drink, going to bed at a certain time every night, scheduling meals, never missing breakfast or ANY meal, or staying up late or going out dancing. I point blank REFUSE to live my life by these shitty rules. Yes, I'll get headaches, but - even if I did everything in my power to prevent them, I'd STILL GET THEM! These fucking headaches are a nuisance, and it sucks when I get one, but they WILL not RULE my life.

If this guy comes back in now and tells me to avoid my triggers and live more responsibly or whatever, I may in fact smack him.

But, the big bossman specialist came in... and before I had a chance to open my mouth, said something like;
"I'm sure you know your triggers by now, and this diary is simply to record the frequency of headaches - and to compare and see whether the medication we're going to put you on makes a difference. Regardless of how you live your life, you ARE a migraine sufferer, and will get headaches but, hopefully, we can reduce them."


So, my plan is to wait a month before starting on the preventatives, and record whatever happens... and then take them for 5 months... and come back with my findings.

Fine so! If it doesn't work, then, feck it. At least he doesn't expect me to live like a frail, delicate, sensible coward. That's the biggest relief of all.

On break at work at mo, so best be getting back!

More Fun-in-Sun Summer Tales

I had a mini-holiday in Germany 2 weeks ago, y’know! Did I mention that? I’ve been neglecting this poor bedraggled blog lately…

Wrangled ONE day off, (in between my usual two. 3 in a row = buy plane tickets!) Drinking on a work night out, followed by an all-night bday house party, followed by drunken mess in security, followed by missed flight, followed by drunken tears, followed by bus home, nap, bus back, NEW flight, and… FINALLY arrived! Ich bin ein Dortmunder!

Went to Dortmund to see some friends who are over on Erasmus there. It was fan-freakin’ tastic. I managed to see some sights, visit Dusseldorf and Köln, get myself a Curry Wurst (which I hadn’t had for 6 YEARS… and which didn’t taste as good as I remembered), do some shopping, eat some sushi (with novelty fish-shaped Soy sauce thingie!), fuck-up hair by ill-advisedly spraying deodorant in it (don’t ask), practice my German and re-learn stuff, taste (legal!?!) Poitín in an “Irish” bar (called Limericks!), taste waaatury Guinness in same, stay out all night at a mental metal(ish?) club that didn’t close, link arms doing Jager shots with a beautiful Russian…
All this in a day and a bit. (The final day was spent with a mean hangover-turned-day-long-migraine that was NOT fun to travel with) – and, turned out, the beautiful Russian had wanted to see me! *pout* Shame. Well, he’d’ve had some shock if he did. I was…less that “put together.”

I have another mini-holiday coming up – Bank holiday! That means Sunday and Tuesday off as usual….and… the shop’s closed Monday! HELL yeah.
I’m going to Limerick, lady! And it’s been far too long and I hope you all are ready for a homecoming to be remembered.





I miss my mam and dad most of all. They’re coming to Dublin Monday, ‘though. And the five of us are going to U2 together!
I must insist on more family (that’s ALL five pieces, please) outings/events/things... Since we all split up and went our own ways, we’ve made an effort – but not enough. I miss feeling like a solid family unit…thing.

*shrug*

Is doigh gur chreid mé i ngrá,
Sular tháinig cara liom air
Romham.

The Summer So Far

I thought I’d be lonely and miserable this summer – the only one not going away; my friends mostly in Limerick/Cork; the one stuck in Dublin after (bizarrely) landing a job when no-one else could. (When I didn’t really even try...) But I’m having a blast. I have people. Great people. Just ‘cos they’re not around doesn’t mean I’m no longer the luckiest person alive. My friends and family are incredible. And they’ve visited me a LOT more often than I could have hoped since the summer started. Which is great. ‘Cos I haven’t gotten home since I started in Specsavers (two days off… but not together. Sunday and Tuesday. Crap? Yeah.)

The work crowd are great. Really a fab bunch. Never settled into a place so quickly in my life – school, jobs, whatever – never! Really clicked with a few of them. Good people. My kinda people.

And I have my Conradh family – my weird, extended, Gaeilge-labharing family...

A friend of mine said to me last night (as Gaeilge, but I’ll paraphrase in English here:) that he really respected my attitude: I work hard (maybe too hard) and take on too much, simply for fear of missing a single opportunity that comes my way. He said that some people (NORMAL people), when tired, accept their tiredness and take a break. I, however, swat it away and don’t consider it a hinderance (apparently). Then I seem surprised when I get exhausted and run-down – which he said was hilarious to him. And weird. But cool.


I just shrugged. I suppose it IS pretty funny. But I don’t see myself as that; a sort of stupid blind Energiser Bunny who, ‘though impressive, is bound to run out of steam and doesn’t know when to quit. I DO know when to quit. I just don’t want to. And don’t feel like I can.


It’s a pain I got a job, in some ways, but not in others. It’s a pain I have to work the other jobs – but I love them all.
“Keep interested in your own career, however humble. It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.”
I’ll be out of college before I know it. And all my ideas and plans and great projects can wait a few more months. I have a LOT of ideas. Once I get my degree, unless I miraculously (irritatingly) land an ab fab job the very day I graduate, I am gonna start living for me and my dreams, man. And I am going to have earned every minute of it.


And I'm gonna see more of my fecking friends and family, dammit.

Haircut!

Since dying my hair brown, I've taken a new inerest in the thing. For a long time I've taken no care of it, whatsoever (as evidenced by the ratty ends, fluffy condition, and odd limbo-"style" that's neither curly, straight, or even wavy, to be honest...)

So, I'm getting it cut today! In fact, I'll keep this brief or I'll be late for my appointment.

Chopping off the green-ish ends (not exactly punk-rock green, and my friends tell me I'm imagining it, but there's a sheen off of it that simply MUST go) - that'll make it look like it's in better condition, it'll be less heavy and lank, and, the colour'll look fresher!

Gettin' a wash and blowdry - though hate the way they always flatten it - all straight and dull. I am not a straight-hair girl!

Yikes, I'm officially gonna be late now - bbl! (...perhaps with a new fringe! Gasp!)

RE: "Interesting"

That post there a few posts ago - I changed my mind. It'd be pretty unfair to meet up with him when I'm so...blatantly not interested. Shame. I want to be, but can see where it's going and don't like it.

Most posts on here, I've regretted the second I've written them. With an attitude like that, you may think I shouldn't have a blog - but that's exactly the reason why I have one...

...To tap away in an internet cafe and get all the rambling crap out of my head and into the e-abyss. :P