I'm Fine.

I'm trying. I'm trying really hard.

Empty?

I feel a little bit empty at the moment.


The girls are being so understanding, and they're great, they really are, but I know my grace period is almost up and they don't want to hear it anymore. They won't say that but I know they think it.


I met him and we went for a drink. At first it was superficial, small talk almost. Eventually it came around and I ended up having a great time - it was almost like before - and that was great you know because I missed him so much and it was really great to spend time with him again.


But it was hard too. Really hard. I had to catch myself so many times and stop myself thinking thoughts I shouldn't, remind myself that it will never be what I had hoped and that even if he did suddenly turn around and say that he'd made a mistake and could we try that I'd never be fully happy because I can't trust him anymore and I'd never be certain of him.


I wonder, no, I think that he never realised either how much he's affected me, and that he never had half of the feeling for me that I have for him. I say have because I still have it. One of the girls asked me if I loved him, and I was reluctant to answer and deflected at the time because, having never been in love ever, and given that my feelings were in no way returned I did not want to discuss it but I know that I did, that I do love him. And it hurts.


The realisation that he does not, has never returned a quarter of these feelings kills. Now being with him, when I can't, will never be with him hurts like hell. I really don't know what's worse: not being around him and missing him terribley, or being with him and knowing that I will never be with him. At the moment it definitely feels like that latter.


I'd always been so idealistic about love, and dreamt about love. How very irritating that my first forray into the 'great, magnificent, stars-in-your-eyes' world of love should be such a painful one. But then, all great heroines' first experience of love is an unhappy one. Maybe I'm destined to be one of those great heroines. Maybe my story is a little bit more complex and painful than others, but ultimately more interesting and perhaps fulfilling...?

This chain of mine...

I did ask, and I did get answers.
I'm glad I asked because I did get some resolution from it. Or at least on the day, I felt resolution. Now I feel, I'm not sure I can describe it accurately enough...It's like when you have a favourite necklace that you wear. You wear every day, never taking it off, not at night or even when you shower. You're in the habit of playing with this necklace, absent-mindedly most of the time. You play with it when you're thinking, when you're worried, when you're listening to your best friend pour their heart out or even when you're just bored.
Then one day, the necklace is inexplicably gone. You search everywhere for it, your bed, your room, the sitting room, the bathroom, the shower, even turning your jumpers inside out and shaking them. Try how you might, you just can't figure out how it's gone missing. You become angry with yourself for not taking better care of it. You retrace your steps time and time again trying to figure out what happened, where it went wrong. You refuse to give up looking for it for quite some time, sure that you'll find the answer somehow.
Then, one day you finally accept that the necklace is gone forever. You decide that the time for looking for it has passed and you stop being quite so angry. And for a while, you feel better. You even have moments where you completely forget about it.
But then the real missing starts. It's not all encompassing like it was at first. But it is ever present. Every time you go to play with it, you miss it. Without even thinking, you're hand reaches for the spot it used to rest but to no avail, it's gone. Every time that happens, you feel a pang. Every time your hand fails to grasp the little chain you wonder where it went, what happened to it and you miss it.
That's what I feel now. I miss him. I don't even know if I do believe what he told me that in Tribes. I did at the time, and I was sure that we could be friends again eventually, but now I'm not so sure. I miss him with all my heart. The other night I was on the brink of texting him a usual jokey text message.I couldn't do it. Whatever it was, I couldn't bring myself to write, let alone send it. It was like when words catch in your throat. Even though I knew it would be a great ice-beaker of sorts and set things on the road to the way they used to be, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Tonight, I missed home again. I went to see a play, and as it wasn't the most stimulating play I've ever seen, I spent most of it wondering if it was him up in the box, just a few feet above my head. I looked up at the op box every so often. I fiddled with my watch wondering if he knew I was there. When I walked out, it crossed my mind should I hang back a few minutes to see if he'd appear. I didn't, my good sense prevailed. But still I missed him, no, yearned for him terribly. For the past few days, every day I go to touch my necklace, but it's not there and I miss it.
I'm even afraid of seeing him now because I spend so much of my time close to tears just thinking about him...if I were to see him in a social setting, being his usual friendly, flirty self with everyone around, it would hurt, and I don't want to be hurt by him anymore. I want to be friends with him again, because I miss him, but I'm afraid of being hurt by him even more. I don't want to be hurt anymore. I want to stop hurting, I want to stop missing him. I want to forget I ever had a stupid necklace.

To ask, or not to ask?

There are many questions I have now that I need answers to. The biggest being should I ask them at all. Such a whirlwind as happened tonight, such a meleé of emotion that I'm surprised I can still stand. But then, I'm not so affected as that.
I heard the words with my own ears and still I'm failing to understand. Maybe I should stop trying to understand. I feel very angry, and vengeful; I want to enact revenge of some sort yet I can't. This is not clear cut, this is muggy and dirty and so mixed up that I feel unable to act either way.
I am so hurt by this. For the first time I am not the one to blame, I wasn't seeing things that weren't there, or only seeing the things I wanted to see - I saw what was there; what was real. Yet I am the one who has to pay. I'm the one who has to feel foolish, and humiliated and stupid. I do know that this is not the end of my world. I do know that there are a million people out there worse off than I am, a million times worse even. I do know that I will get past this, I'm made too strong to be beaten down for too long and there is some relief in finally knowing where I stand.
But that doesn't stop me feeling hurt and angry. I am blameless in this, I did nothing but be charmed and swept away as anyone would have. But I feel mortified.
I feel like saying nasty things, I feel blatantly showing the whole world what a horrible was done to me. But we were friends ere anything else and that stops me. Still, after all that has happened I could not do that.
He fucked up. He royally fucked up and I know he knows that but I want him to know it more. How could he ever expect things to go back the way they were? The thoughts of even seeing him right now turn my stomach. I feel betrayed.
Because of his actions, not only have I lost someone I thought I could be with, but I've lost a friend as well. I don't understand why.
This is a new hurt to me. And the truth of the matter? He didn't deserve to break my heart, he's not worthy of it. Nor does he deserve my tears, fall though they might. I'm worth more than that, I deserve more than that.
I hope he realises what he's lost. I don't think I will see him 'on the other side'. I'm not sure I'll ever allow him to have me again, as a friend or even less.
So do I ask him why?

I don't know.

The meaning of...you call this life?

I'm back home at last. I thought I'd never get here. But now I'm here I have to wait ages till I get back to Cork. Well, ten days anyway. So much has happened in the meantime I don't know where to even start. I'm so confused and mixed up over many things, it's all a big jumble of stuff just bursting to get out but I'm trying my hardest to keep it in.

So my mum is in hospital waiting for surgery on what may or may not be cancer, either way it's surgery and that scares me a lot. I can't lose my mum. If I lose my mum, I lose everything. I'm praying every day that she will be ok but even my prayers are half hearted because I'm losing my faith. I'm convinced that I'm one of those people who just will never be truly happy because every time things start going well something bad happens and right now there is this one thing that I really really want that I think will make me very happy but I feel like if my mum is ok, then I don't get it, or if I get it, then I'm going to lose my mum. I don't think I'm allowed have both. It's unfair and it makes me angry but I truly believe that it's my lot, that that's how it's always going to be. I can be a little bit happy here and there, but real happiness for a prolonged period of time? No. Never. Not going to happen.

The meaning of life through my eyes? It's hard. It sucks. Once you accept that and get over it, you should be fine. But that's easier said than done, isn't it?

I cannot believe I let my whole experience of London go undocumented. Here at least. In my journal there is more than enough information but the effort of transcribing it all is simply too much. Lately I have been much happier writting down my thoughts, ideas, feeling etc. with a pen as opposed to a keyboard.
Going through this ridiculous phase of eighteenth century idealism and romanticism as I am, it seemes (especially as I wandered the streets and parks of London) far more appropriate to carry with me my litle journal which I could take out at intervals and document all I was seeing/doing, sometimes even drawing pictures. Although I think it fair to say that my artistic abilities leave a LOT to be desired.
I will say this of my visit to London: I am wholly lost to the idea of being in my very own romantic bildungsroman a la Miss Bennet or Miss Eyre. I simply can't help it...

Months later...

I know, I know, I'm a total farce. So many things have happened since last I tapped out words on this little screen. I've just been so busy, engrossed in my own little world and using a pen, rather than a keyboard to sound out my thoughts. Much has happened to my alter-ego Jane also, and much has been written of her, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that, Idon't have any of it with me.
I'm off to London on Wednesday, I really can't wait. The Power that is Una shall be accompanying me. Exciting much.
I shall update further then.

Looking back to happier times

I was just on bebo and cmae across this. It was posted ages ago, and I wouldn't feel right putting it up there now, it's such a happy page right now. But I'm gonna post it here. I feel I should put it somewhere. The thing is yesterday I attended a kids themed party where we played all manner of kids games etc. The playing in the field, running about, playing games, getting dirty - it all served as a memory of my childhood. Most of it, time I spent with Barry. Especially because we were in the country and playing in the field. It didn't make me sad at the time or anything, it was nice remembering all those stupid things we used to do. I think that's why I skated down the way too steep hill. I was standing at the top, looking down and I thought to myself: what would Barry do if he were here? What would he say? He would say do it. Just like the time we jumped into the water-filled quary. I grazed my knee that time too. That was what we did. We spent our entire childhood and even some of our teens doing stupid things, quite often getting hurt, but that was just part of it. I know that if he had been there yesterday, of course he would have been worried when I lamped myself, but seeing I was ok he would have called me a mad bitch but ben impressed none the less. Twisted I know, but that's the way we were. I miss him so much sometimes. He brought such life and vigour to everything he did. He was a mad fucker alright, but that was just part of him that made everyone love him all the more. Even now memories are flooding back to me: the time we broke the window in his garage and he cut his hand quite badly, the time we managed to lock him in the booth of the car, the time I got my head cracked off a tree, the time the television fell onto us, the times we went exploring the building sites...the list goes on. Of course, as far as the adults are concerend allnthe above were accidents, unintentional - we covered up for each other very well. To this day no one knows we broke that window. The window was already broken when we got there, we were trying to clean up the glass, that's how Barry cut his hand. Really. Jesus, and all the times we went climbing all over the hay bales down the fields and caught field mice. We were inseperable really. they called us the terrible twins. Whenever we went anywhere together people thought we actually were twins. Sometimes we pretended we were! So, for Barry:


Barry "The Man Himself"
Barry was a very popular young man, loved and admired by all who knew him, as evidenced by the massive attendance at his funeral and by the outpouring of emotion by young and old alike. He played with distinction for this club from his very first outing and achieved many honours in a career that promised much more in the years to come.
Barry had the distinction of playing in two under 12 Finals, two U14 Finals, two U16 Finals and a Minor Final, winning both U12 Finals, an u14, u16 and a Minor Final. Barry was captain of the Minor winning side last year. As an U14 he went on to play in the All Ireland Feile in Tipperary. He also won an All Ireland Colleges Senior C Final with Presentation College Carlow and represented his county too. As a player he had a great competitive spirit, was fearless and loved a challenge. He was never fazed by an opponent and inspired those around him with his ability to win ' hard ball', to take punishment and drive on for victory. There is no doubt that he would have gone on to achieve great things in senior grade in years to come.
Barry had a great love of life and lived his short life to the full. He possessed great charm and warmth and was always the life and soul of the party. Never in bad form he had a glint in his eye and you just knew he was game for anything. He had an ability to get on with people - of all ages and was extremely loyal to friends and family. If you were a friend of Barry's he would look out for you, no questions asked. He had a great sense of humour too and loved nothing better than to put one over on you. I even heard of him getting Tony Maher to take his photo to appear in the Carlow People, the rival newspaper to his father's Nationalist, just to rise Tom! That was his way. Tom and Marian were great parents and friends to Barry and all the family and we know they will bear their cross with great dignity.
As many of you know Tom Geoghegan devoted much of his live to this club and has always been one of the real cornerstones of the Club. Tom has over the years been a great friend to countless Eire Og players and members and did more good turns, in a quiet unassuming way, than will ever be known. Barry lived his life to the full; he used all his talents well and is now gone to claim his just reward in Heaven. It can be hard for us to share the pain but sometimes words can be a source of comfort. Here is a short poem by a lady called Mary Frye, that for me describes Barry as we knew him.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.


Ar Dheis De go raibh a anam dhilis.

what now?

interesting developments. that's all I'm saying.

A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...

How is it you can be so certain about someting one minute, and then utterly confused about it the next? I was 100% sure that it was right. Now, I don't think it's right at all. I'm not just confused or unsure, I feel the opposite of what I originally felt. It has to end, but I don't know how and I have to wonder, am I just running away? Am I giving up too easily? A part of me thinks I am, but a bigger part tells me I have to do it. I don't know how though, I really don't know how.....
I have to do it. I will do it. In fact, I'll be doing it today. The thoughts of it make me sick, but I guess it's ok because I have people who care about me to look after me and help me through it. I know it's the right decision. I've weighed it all up, I've considered it from every angle and come to the conclussion that I'm not willing to settle and lose something that's a big part of what I am; not when there are people with whom such a loss isn't even a slight consideration.
Ok, it doesn't stop the horrific churning in my stomach and it is still very upsetting, but at least I know ot's the right thing to do.
I just hope it goes well.....

weirdness.

So I'm getting a sense of deja vu. I've been here before, I've done this before, I've learned this lesson. I see people around me crumple, fear, shock, dissbelief. I just stand, silent. I think to myself, and maybe its wrong but I think 'aha!' there it is. They now feel one little bit of what I feel everyday. They now see a fraction of what (thankfully) they have been blind to. I feel an odd detachment to it because I simply can't take it and yet an attachment because now there is a face I knew, a voice I heard. I wonder, why is it happening?
I see the fear in their eyes, and I can understand why, I feel it myself. Its crazy and unbelievable and I feel...odd.
Life is weird sometimes.

Times they are a-changin...

Right, so the thing that wasn't being said? It was said. It only took a shoulder of vodka and much encouragement from many people not even remotely involved for me to do it. It could have gone horrifically wrong. I could be sitting here writing about how everything is so bleak, and really, what is the point of anything...? But I'm not. In fact, I couldn't be happier. This time, for once in my life, it was worth taking the risk. It kind of made me realise why people take risks all the time.
In life, people take risks every day - both big and small - and as someone who has been relatively unlucky in the risks I've taken, I always wondered what the point was. Now I know. (cue cheesy American TV-with-morals bit...)
Even if, time after time, your risks do not pay off, the one time, that one ever elusive moment when something clicks into place and everything seems to fall together at your feet, makes it all worth it.
Time after time I have taken risks, putting myself out there and leaping head first into things. Time after time, I came up short. Then one day, well, I didn't even need to take much of a risk...it just sort of happened. Now the challenge has changed from taking a risk to facing the fear and not running away. This is truly a different kind of challenge, one I personally find harder. It's one thing to take the initial leap, it's another thing altogether to let go of the safety cord and let yourself fly. But that, my friends, is another story for another blog.
Speaking of stories...

Jane took in the man standing before her. He was very tall with brown hair and a somewhat arrogant air. His name signalled something in Jane's memory, but she could not recall what.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. - Winchester did you say?" she greeted, standing and bowing her head.
"Yes I did. I take it the name rings a bell?" he smiled taking her hand and raising it to his lips.
"Well, yes, actually but I can't quite recall - "
"Ha ha, I'm not surprised. My father, Alfred Winchester? He owns the biggest ship yard in Cork. Everyone knows him."
Now Jane could recall who this young man was. Or at least who his father was. Alfred Winchester was a man much hated by her father. He had started life as a lowly sea merchant and had cheated, swindled and bribed his way to the top of his profession. A few years back Jane's father lost an entire crew of officers on a ship built by Winchester's ship yard. He swore it was because Winchester took shortcuts with the building materials. The loss of those men cut Jane's father's heart deeply. She could not abide listening to this man brag about his father's success a moment longer.
"The biggest shipyard in Cork?" Jane asked.
"Mr Winchester is a very influential and revered man, Jane." Katy supplied. Jane read between the lines of this statement, validating her own suspicions. Mr Winchester was powerful, and feared.
"Well, I suppose that's not hard when it's the only shipyard. Still though, I imagine it's a big achievement for a man who started out as a deck hand."
Jane savoured the gasps of the company and the shock on Mr Edward Winchester's face.
"My dear Katherine, I am rather exhausted, I think I should like to go home now. Will you take a walk with me?" she asked with a sweet smile and feigned fatigue. Katy nodded mutely and hurried to replace her bonnet on her head.
"Miss Granger, I would like to join you in a visit to your aunts house?" the girl by the name of Stephanie asked politely.
"Of course. I'm certain Aunt Victoria will be thrilled to meet my new acquaintances.

Who am I? Oh yeah...me...

So I find myself in a perplexing situation. I'm not entirely sure what's going on and it's frustrating because what it boils down to is that I don't know how I feel about something I don't understand. It's all very confusing...
I'm very...unsure. You see, there's a lot going on, but nothing is being said, if you know what I mean. I feel like there's a great big pink elephant in the room and everybody is politely ignoring it's existence.
Anyways, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Eventually...

Oh, Rochester!

Having just finished watching the BBC adapation of Jane Eyre, I have come to the conclussion that they just don't make men like they used to. This made me wonder though, why? Is it because the female of the species have found their independence? *cough*
If you look at Mr Darcy, Heathcliffe, Rochester...all impassioned sexy men; all lived in the in the 1800's; all looked positively dashing in high collers galloping around on horses or alternatively jumping into lakes.
Another question comes to mind - is there something lacking in the men of today which makes swoon after these 19th Century fictional characters, and is that why we seem to never be satisfied with the men we have and divorce rates have never been higher, or, have we just found modern counterparts and due to more flexible views on being with someone we have lost the capability to stick it out with someone, 'till death us do part'?
So what do the men of Austen and the Bronte's have in common?
~ They all have under-lying almost animalistic sexiness.
~ They are all tall and well built
~ They are all, lets face it, rather arrogant and up themselves
~ They all expect women to just..well, do what they want without considering her feelings on the matter.
~ Come to think of, they all treat women quite badly before copping on to themselves (although to be fair it's debateable whether or not Heathcliffe ever achieved enlightenment on the whole respect women part...)
So where does this leave us in today's world?
Well, we all know men who have all the above attriubutes, so I guess they still make them like that. If we have these men, why are we unhappy? I give you my ground-breaking, earth-shattering theory: the true appeal of these men is that the women they love change them. What we want : the asshole who changes, just for us. We want to be the one with that unknown power, that something about us that turns a chauvinistic player into putty in our hands and above all, a decent man.
And there's the rub. The men we love from those stories are fictional. In real life, those assholes? They won't change, and that's why so manyh women are unhappy.
Personally, I say, give the decent guy a chance - you might just surprise yourself. Or, play the field yourslf, have fun, do whatever the hell you like. After all, you onlyy live once.
And, speaking of Austen and Bronte...

Jane followed Katherine as close as she could, trying desperately not to step in any puddles along the way. Half way down the street Katy turned suddenly into a lane and Jane found herself host to a wonderful aray of bright colours, noises and smells.
"Where are we?" she asked Katy once she caught her breath.
"The English market. There's a wonderful little cafe up the stairs here. My friends are waiting for me. Come." replied Katy smiling.
Jane obeyed and climbed the narrow stairs, taking care not sgtep on her underskirts. The two made their way to a table in the centre of the room around which sat a group of four or five people. Jane's breath caught in her throat. She was rather shy in new company and was unsure how to conduct herself. Thankfully, Katy turned out to be wonderful in such a social situation. It quickly became clear to Jane that she was a very well-liked girl and knew exactly how to sway people to her way of thinking.
"Everyone," she began, "May I introduce Lady Victoria's niece: Miss Jane Granger."
Jane was immediately surrounded by a chorous of greetings and welcomes. She wondered how she would ever remember everyone's name!
After some tea, once she had relaxed a little, Jane even ventured to add her oppinion to the discourse which had at that point had turned to the recent marriage of Lord Baskerville.
"From what I've heard, her Ladyship was rather insistent on a quick marriage, if you know what I mean." a girl by the name of Eveline Netherfield was saying.
"How could you possibly know that?" Stephanie Charlton replied, "if you don't know anyone involved there is no way that could be verrified and you should not say it."
"I cannot say as to the truth of that matter, but I do know that Lord Baskerville spends rather too much time and money on those hounds of his much to the detriment of his health. His wife should be lucky to see him at all." Jane interupted, and immediately regretted for the table fell silent.
"My dear Jane, how could you know that?" Ava O'Conor asked wide-eyed.
Jane swallowed hard. Had she said too much? How much information was it appropriate to give? Had she assumed confidence in this cirlce too quickly?
"Please Jane, do go on. You're driving us mad with curiosity!" Katy prompted impatiently.
"My father spent time in England. He made an acquaintance with Lord Baskerville." she answered, her eyes down.
"Well, you are a very well conected young lady indeed."
Jane looked up, for it was an unfamiliar voice that had spoken, a male voice.
"Edward Winchester." the young man continued. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger."

GGG-GALWAY

Wow, what a weekend...I think it's safe to say everyone had an unforgettable time. We sang the National Anthem on the middle of Eyre Square, befriended some foreign boys (one too many some might say...stalkers, anyone?) got drunk, lost our voices, got drunk, got sick, pissed people off committed murder (or so the people at the hostel thought anyway) witnessed a domestic, got harassed by under-agers and D4s, judged an 80's dance off and over all had a fantabulous time.
The bus journey was an absolute nightmare...it was long, stuffy, the roads were crap and who could forget the several stalker/creeps with picture phones...?!
I'm not sure Galway was prepared for us but it treated it us very well. The first club we went to we were practically the only girls there. Consequently we were treated very very well, though on occasion too well. One guy, though I told him more than once to piss off decided it would be a great idea to stroke my hair while I was dancing, I mean, ew! Another guy kept pushing Una and I together in hopes of encouraging some kind of girl-on-girl lesbian action.
It was like that in the other club as well. Though there were many many more girls, we still seemed to be pretty popular and it was really class. Apart from several of our number going MIA and causing mild panic. Apparently to some people a half hour only seems like 5 minutes...but whatever, it was a savage night.
I also managed not to get so drunk that I puked my guts up. In fact, I wasn't sick at all, which considering the bus journey home was quite a feat I felt. It's actually scary how well I can take a nagin of vodka now...
I did of course christen Galway by falling two minutes after we stepped off the bus so that was that taken care of. Una also fell in amazing style that nigh when she jumped over a pole and slipped on landing...hilarious.
Good times guys, good times.

We first encounter Jane as she wanders through town, looking for a new hat to wear to the country the following week. Thankfully her father sent her to Cork with enough of an allowance as to allow her to chose any hat she so desired. As she perused the various stalls along St Patrick St. a rather sallow skinned girl with rich brown hair and a welcoming smile approached her.
"That hat is rather divine, isn't it?" said she, looking at the hat Jane held in her hand.
"Yes it is," replied Jane in surprise. Was it customary for people in Cork to just begin talking to you? "I think I may buy it."
The girl smiled, "You should. Say, you're not Lady Victoria's niece by any chance are you?"
Jane stared in wonderment.
"Why, yes I am. Do you know her very well?"
"Yes, I should think I do. I live right next door, actually. I'm Katherine Crawford, but most people call me Katy."
"Very nice to meet you Katy. I'm Jane." she replied. How lucky was she to find a friend on her first day! Just at that moment, a drop fell upon her head.
"Oh, I do believe it's going to rain." she exclaimed.
"Why don't you accompany me to the tea house, I am meeting some friends there. I should say they'd be delighted to meet you. Your arrival has been much anticipated!" Katherine said as she pulled Jane along behind her with much haste.
Jane nodded and followed along quickly. It didn't seem she had much choice in the matter and after all, surely she'd be the better having made some acquaintances?

It was the best of times...It was the worst of times...

Dear Blogger,
I'm so sorry I've been neglecting you of late! It's just that with such a heavy load of work in both drama and English I'm finding it hard to find time to eat and sleep let alone write down my most daring...oh whatever.
Truth is, though I do have a most horrific workload college wise, I'm just rather lazy. Instead of being productive and doing everything when it's given as work, I insist on leaving it to the last minute. Even then, I still find other things to occupy myself with: watching films, watching TV, wasting hours upon hours of my life on bebo, TV...the list goes on.Like now for example. Instead of getting down to work and finishing off my logbook for drama which is due tomorrow, and preparing a presentation for said class, I chose instead to scope out youtube and write some nonsensical ramblings here.
That's productivity for you.I wish I was being a Hermione right now: over-prepared and organised; but I'm just not bothered enough at the moment.

Also, have come up with a marvelous story.
It is set in Cork, circa 1800. It is rather delightful and the characters all very interesting and intriguing. It centered around a young girl by the name of Jane (named of course after her dear departed mother...how tragic!) Granger. An avid reader she wishes to be a Governess and perhaps a lady novelist. Wracked with guilt over her mothers death, and money being readily available, her father (a certain Colonel John Martin Granger) sends her off to her Aunt in Cork City. With her aunt (by the name of Victoria Chisbrook) she learns about life, and how little she knows of it. As she familiarises herself with life in the city she encounters many people and lands herself in more than a few awkward situations. For what does a country girl know of societal life in the city? In a place where appearance is everything and nothing is as it appears, can our heroine survive the pitfalls of convention and find her place in society? Will she ever become a good proper woman, and find what is, unbeknownst to her, her one desire: love?
Join with me and follow Jane's journey from innocent girl to young woman.

I'm telling you, it's going to be a smash,and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the story as it progresses. Note: any resemblance of the characters to anyone in real life is purely coincidental and entirely unintentional. (well, almost...)

Vodka is not my friend...

So last night, after swearing to myself I would join Kelly and Sarah on the no drinking till Kelly's birthday boat, and then I went to Jo's 20th birthday bash. With Sarah. We shared a litre of vodka between the two of us. I have never been so smashed in my life. Oh my God, I was so ridiculously plastered. I ended up spending half the night curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor. Oi, did I pay for it this morning in college. I'm never drinking vodka again. Well, at least for the moment. But anyway, enough about that.
So the more pressing matter at the moment is my perpetual singledom. It has happened. I am the sole remaining single person left in my apartment. How do I feel about this? Not too sure actually. I'm really happy for all of them, definitely. To be honest it doesn't bug that much. Except when everyone is here with their boyfriends being all coupley and I'm like 'pass me a bucket while I throw up!' lol. I feel like I'm a dying breed. I can see the headlines now: "Singles beware! You are now an endangered species!" hahaha.
I'm happy enough being single for the moment. The worst thing is the pressure put on you by non-singles to not be single anymore. "it will happen when you least expect it..." Sure, because my Mr Darcy is going to fall out of the sky, dripping wet, looking devilishly handsome in a dashing cravat and white shirt right into the stacks of Shakespeare on Q+3. And drop a book on my head. Yes. Of course.

The dangers of YouTube

So your sitting in front of your laptop, watching the O.C. and then all of a sudden, you've lost three hours of your life without realising it. Add to that the fact that you miss the last four crucial minutes of said favourite TV show and you're left with one very peeved off person.
Oh well. At least I know they get together. I just wish I could see it!!!

Fatigued ramblings of a former insomniac. (wtf?!)

Dear God I'm knackered. I've been falling asleep since I came in from work at about half six. I haven't gone to bed though. I had intended on watching the OC but I got side tracked re-doing my bebo and emailing people etc. At least I don't have to get up in the morning, thank God. I can just sleep and sleep until I wake up naturally. Knowing my luck though I'll wake up ridiculously early at like 9 or something. It's always the way, isn't it.
I found a great poem by Emily Dickinson online today, I put it up on my bebo. I didn't credit it to her though, I think it might be funnier to see if people think it was me that wrote it because it's actually rather funny unlike some of her other dreary stuff.
Last night (with thanks to the OC) I have reached the fourth stage of grief: depression. On the one hand , that may seem very, well, depressing, and it's true it is; on the other hand there's only one more stage to go: acceptance.
Unfortunately it took me four years to reach the fifth stage with regards to my dad. I'm hoping this wont take as long. This is the hardest stage, but at least I have people around me who are watching out for me. And at least I can recognise it within myself, which I couldn't do before. So: onwards and upwards!
Sarah is going to be directing Kelly and I in a piece for one of my drama modules on Tuesday. It's a scene from Othello between Emelia and Desdemona. She hasn't told us who's playing who yet, but I'm excited for it. I'm really looking to sinking my teeth into some proper scene work. And to see Sarah direct oo, coz I haven't really seen that from her yet and as I had no desire to direct the piece myself, (neither did Kelly for that matter) it should work out grand. I wonder who I'll be. It's always interesting to see what other people see you as...
I'm posting on of Dickinson's poems on our Wall of Thought in the hall. It's the only piece of writing I've ever come across that can explain how it feels. Maybe if they read it, they might understand just a little bit better. I don't know what I'd do without them; I just hope they know that if anything were to happen to them, big or small, I'd be there without thinking.
Hmmm, the OC is beckoning.....Adam Brody.....nam.

well, hello there...

Ok, so this is my first post on my new blog. I used to have an LJ but I kind of grew out of it. Too complicated for me really. At least this one seems nice and simple and easy to handle. That and there are people viewing my lj I don't want so just deleting it seemed the best course of action.
I'm feeling rather weird at the moment but I'm sure that's mostly due to lack of sleep and over consumption of alcohol. Well, it is Rag Week after all; if you can't go on a week long bender this week when can you? Besides, it's all in the name of charity. That's my excuse anyhow...
Just watched Moulin Rouge. Love that film, but my God it's depressing. I don't know why (as an apartment of girls, mind you) we insist on watching these films (Walk to Remember, Romeo and Juliette, Cruel Intentions, The Body Guard being just a few examples) that we know are going to make us feel bad and cry (that's if you're the kind of girl that cries. I'm not. It's a problem apparently...) and make us feel bad in general. I think it's one of those mysterious girl things that even we don't understand.
We're going to see Dream Girls tonight. It's supposed to be a good flick. I'm not overly interested though, I'd rather see Blood Diamond, but sure whatever, majority rules. (That and the fact Zoe doesn't get out of work till 9 and B.D. starts at 8:30)
Have work tomorrow. Gah. I do enjoy when I'm there for the most part, and I couldn't survive without it, but still. The effort of it all...