Monday, December 29, 2008

Bring it on!!

Bring on the New Year, bring on the new semester, bring on the dramas, stress and hectic mayhem of Dublin and all the wonderful things I associate with that freakin' BEAUTIFUL city!! I feel refreshed, revitalised, ready for the New Year - I've had my holiday and Limerick (though cozy at first) has once again grown too small for me and I'm DYING to get back on track!!

So much to do, so much to do! People to see - people I haven't seen in a while especially! Stuff to organise, plans to make, work to do - writing! Must start writing! Must get published! Must start drawing again! And why not? About time I made time for something I enjoy (besides drinking, chain-smoking with sex'n'the city, late-night phone calls, and hazy conversations during those sweet hours that don't really exist in other peoples' lives...)

Bounce back? Understatement!
I'm dying to get back in the ring. I haven't quite been my superwoman-self these last few months; but these exams will be a WALKOVER (I've never failed an exam in my life and I don't plan to start now) and I'll have such a good time doin' work-experience and everything will fall into place. Like it always, always does. I regret nothing I've ever done. At the times it tortured me the most, life has taught me the most.

Most recent lesson? When approaching breaking point - TAKE A BREAK!! Lucky Christmas holidays came when it did is all I'll say.. It hasn't been a rosy holiday.. and it's nowhere near stress-free.. or over.. but it's just what I needed.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Merry Christmas everyone!

It's Christmas morning. We've just torn the presents open and put the turkey in the oven, and have all run off to enjoy our new stuff - my sister is lazing around her room soaking in the fresh sound of her new cd, my dad's flicking through the fascinating, battered old Irish Digest that my sis picked up for him in a second-hand shop (it has the original short story on which The Quiet Man was based!), and I'm going to have a loooong shower with all the smelly new fancy schmancy seaweed-based stuff I got!

I know I was reluctant to get into the Christmas spirit this year, but I can't help feelin' it today. The table's laid with the good cloth and a cracker poised at the head of each placemat, ready to be snapped; the cat is nestled in a bed of crumpled wrapping paper; I've had about 20 cups of tea in as many minutes; the living room smells of tree and last night's fire and chocolate and the new perfume my mum got me that I HAD to test right away; my dad has filled the digital camera with photos of bleary-eyed, oversized kids in our pjamas opening our gifts; everyone's in good humour despite getting little sleep and being woken rudely by my cruel, excited sister setting off that damn dancing/singing turkey mum bought two years ago.

We've grown up, but we're still kids on Christmas morning - up early to dive under the tree, rip open our presents and squeal with delight. It's nice. It's wonderful, actually. It's Christmas. :)

Friday, December 12, 2008


Not this year. Please just go away.

I've always loved Christmas; I'm the one who sings along to all the cheesy songs, requests them in nightclubs, and when they're played as early as November, I'm usually delighted.

I've often started my Christmas shopping in January. Yes! 11 months in advance. I've often bought Christmas presents on holidays over the summer. I think about Christmas all year round. But I haven't done any shopping yet this year and I don't want to.

This year... fuck it. Just... fuck it. I'm not trying to make a statement, or do that annoying "i'm gonna pick a controversial opinion and go with it so i seem cool and unique" bullshit thing... I just don't feel like it this year. I've had enough of it.

It won't be the same. There's someone missing. Missing. Gone. There's a hole in my Christmas. Well, it's always been there, and it's grown from time to time, but it's just recently gotten bigger and I - and my family - can't bear this blow. Enough. I said enough three years ago... It's even MORE "enough" now...

And I am positively dreading next weekend. I'll be finished the semester in college, back at home for the holidays, and counting the days 'till new year.

New start, new year... bring it on... Hopefully it'll bring something good.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Games.. and changing my shoes..

Games games... I am sick of games. All we ever do is play games.

In relationships.. with our friends... The "says" feature on Facebook.. Facebook and bebo and Myspace in general... The way we dress, talk, walk! There's a motive to everything we do and say, every facial expression, everything. Every-bloody-thing! Be yourself? NO ONE is. People who claim they are always themselves (what-you-see-what-you-get etc); that's an image too! That take-me-or-leave-me, i-am-my-own-person act is an Act like any other. That's how they want to be seen.

How important is it to us to control how others' see us? How we "come across"? We all try to make impressions on people... Try to control them... Small moments like being reluctant to reach for the girlie magazine instead of the paper. The "phone voice" you put on. The voicemail message that you recorded, and re-recorded, and re-recorded.. 'till it sounded right. The clothes you chose for a job interview. The clothes you choose for a night out. The different "look" you go for.

I just threw this on. Yeah.

I had a conversation about that with some girlfriends of mine - About the chosing what to wear for a night out.

One girl always made a big effort.. because she likes to look well put-together, and it makes her feel confident (and the attention it gets her adds to her confidence even more..) Another girl said the reason behind the slightly rock-y edge to her look was that she wanted people to think she was smart (self-conscious about her slightly D4 accent and ditzyness meant she was scared to dye her hair any colour other than black for years)

Me? I had to think about it for a bit. I dress down most of the time. I'm more of an attention AVOIDER than an attention-seeker, and I'm happy to have my more done-up, glammed-up friends act as a buffer for the cheesy lines and chancers..! But, again, that's just how I WANT to seem, right? SOME guys, when "on the pull", see a girl all dressed-up and figure it means she's "on the pull" too (ugh. On the pull. I hate that expression.) The dressed-down friend? Ignored. Just the way I like it.

Well, that's an attitude I'm trying to change. For a long time, I've felt like I can't dress up! If I did, it was only ever around family, and friends. Compliments made me uncomfortable, but worst still were stares, sleazy comments.. and even being grabbed at... Nothing makes me angrier, and I was sick and tired of slapping or shouting at guys when all they'd then do is laugh... humiliating.. To the nastier ones (the Coppers-esque crowd) a girl who dresses up is ASKING to be leered at.

So I stopped dressing up.
How stupid is that??? How often do I claim I don't care what people think of me - how much of a LIAR I've been..

I have some LOVELY clothes that I spent good money on and I NEVER wear anymore. I've gone out to clubs in my runners more times than I can count. No more of that. No more hiding. I won't be young forever - I don't have the BEST figure in the world, but I like it, it's only a few years till it all starts to go wrong on me so I better make the most of it while I have it! In 10 years time I'll kick myself for not flaunting it.

WHen your mum gives out that you don't wear short skirts often enough, something funny's goin' on.

I've been making (slightly) more of an effort lately - just around friends, in safe places where I know people... y'know..? and, sure, that one guy was REALLY scary, that other one was SO annoying.... and that guy following me wasn't the coolest experience either..... but FUCK IT.

I like dressing up. I like dresses. I like feeling feminine and wearing heels and all those cute tops that are gathering dust deserve to see day/night light again! And hell, maybe I could take it as a compliment..... or... just pity the ignorant bastards.