The Leaving Certificate

In June, 2013, I will sit down and puke a load of facts and memorised phrases onto State Examinations thick yellow paper, and thus determine how my life will unfold.

Everyone is telling me to be calm and to try to avoid getting stressed so much that I feel like maybe I should be a little bit more stressed than I am. Because I am not stressed. I’m so blasé and chilled out that it’s almost alarming; I should be bothered, more than I am- I should be bothered.

I just can’t seem to find it in me to worry about it at all. It’s all quite abstract to me, this idea of a few exams having such importance. The thing is, I know that even if I don’t put any effort in at all, if I stop doing all my homework, if I do not study, the only subject I might fail is maths. But if I were to give up on my Leaving Cert in that way, then I would move from honours maths to ordinary level maths, which I presumably wouldn’t fail. Because as of now, I’m doing honours for all of my subjects.

It’s not like I’m not ambitious, I’m actually hoping to get better results than probably most of the country. But hoping is all I’m doing: I’m not doing anything proactive at all…

The only nervousness I feel is about my lack of nervousness, which is O.o 

Celery a.k.a. being awkward in school

I have tried to bulk my school lunches with healthy options instead of crisps and chocolate, so I sometimes bring in a bundle of celery sticks, that I snack on throughout the day.

I was asked in Biology, by my teacher, if I was chewing gum. I wasn’t, I was eating a celery stick. I had to admit this in front of the whole class. They all laughed, teacher included.

She imposes a fine on anyone caught chewing gum, 10c the first time they are caught, and it goes up every time after that. So I suppose she could have thought that I was trying to avoid paying that, because her first response was an incredulous “Really?!”

I confirmed that yes, yes really. I blushed, much to my chagrin.

“That’s not… specifically against the rules, but, heh, please don’t eat in class.” She could not hide her amusement.

Well. I have concluded that I blush far too readily.

The treacheries of sleep

I suspect this is quite a widespread problem but… I have this thing where I am really tired, but when I eventually get to bed, I can’t sleep.

It’s not only that really: my whole sleeping pattern is fucked up. On an average school night I get 4-6 hours sleep, and 6 makes me feel proud- I automatically check how long I will get to sleep before I go to bed. Then on the weekend, it depends where I sleep. If I stay at some one’s house, after a night out, with nothing to do the next day… I might get 15 hours of sleep. It’s quite annoying really, and has resulted in me missing my lift home a couple of times (she drives back from work around 5pm). Then sometimes on the weekend, for certain reasons, I might not be able to sleep for a while, and then after that I feel like shite and have to rest loads.

Last weekend, I slept until 5pm on Sunday and then tried to go to bed again at 12, having school the next day. That didn’t work….

Today, I got home and I went upstairs to my room. I planned on reading a book because I haven’t been doing much of that recently. I was unable to though. I had figured that I had a lot of time because I hadn’t much homework and I wasn’t cooking dinner, nor was I painting. Instead, I got into bed, made a playlist for a couple of hours, and lay there in a stupor while it played. I wasn’t asleep because I didn’t want to give up on my plan of reading. But I wasn’t awake because I dreamt. I think I sort of half slept. It was rather unsatisfying, really. It happens regularly though, that I sacrifice my after-school time to sleep.

Right now, it’s heading towards 1 am. I got up from my “rest” at around 10, read my book. But because I’m so used to going to bed at later times, I was in no hurry to do stuff like make my lunch, because it didn’t sound late to be starting something, to me. I know that when I eventually do go to bed, I will most likely lie in the dark, listening to music, unable to sleep for a while, despite being wrecked. That’s generally what  happens.

Why can I always sleep when I want to do stuff, and not when I want to?

Lads, versus “The Lads”

Well there are guys, men, males, boys, bastards… I call them lads. And there are friends, I call them the lads. There can be confusion regarding my definition because sometimes one of the lads turns out not to be, he turns out to be just another guy. Sometimes a lad can join the group of the lads.

It’s nothing official though, but it is quite select. The group varies depending on who you are with. The lads are the guys I’ll call up to ask if they’r up for a camping trip. Lads are guys who’ll call me up asking if I want to sleep in their tents.

The lads are all males. That would have been inherently suggested in the label, but I am friends with girls too, and go camping with them. It’s just that I often get on better with guys as they’re not all drama drama, and they’re better for the craic.

Btw, if you’re not Irish and you don’t know what “the craic” is, damnit don’t ask me for I haven’t a clue. As some one on one of the sites I looked at trying to find a definition for it said “You can’t define it. It’s just something which happens. It’s organic. It depends on what is happening, where you are and who’s there.” http://www.ireland-fun-facts.com/craic.html It’s probably best you googled it yourself and got an idea of what it was from the many, many descriptions.

Anyway, I was inspired by a post of Freshest15’s (go here to read it) to think about my standards with guys. The truth is, really, I used to be a slut. That’s bluntly put, but then I was an idiot. I regret it now because even though I (like to think I) have changed, people don’t respect that. I wasn’t a slut except out of ignorance and stupidity, and overindulgence in relation to the consumption of alcohol and… Such. And they were always so surprised when I said I was a virgin. So fucking surprised.

I was pretty naive, for a slut. The thing is, I would fall for anything. I suppose I believed in the general “goodness” of everyone. If a lad told me he was cold and put his hands on my waist, inside my top, I would remind him that it was just because he was cold, and that was all. And then they would offer me a drink, or two or three. It’s amazing how generous people are, when they want something, isn’t it?

They will try to lure you away from people, not in a rapist sort of way, just.. Well yeah sort of, except I would be too drunk or too worried about what/whoever it was we had to “go and find” and then… Woop, they’re all over me. Because they like their privacy, they do. And I didn’t see, didn’t see for so long that when a guy asks you to go somewhere alone with him, it’s not an innocent request.

This one time, this guy was being actually ridiculous… They never actually want to force you to do anything of course, but as long as they can act like they’re joking then they wont feel bad. He would pick me up, throw me over his shoulder, and carry me outside… Literally. And we were laughing so no one minded. But then I would hit him till he let me go, go in, make a friend sit by me, and he would push in between us.  When it became clear I wasn’t going to “go outside for a walk” he started trying to get me under a pillow, to make out. Literally. A fucking pillow. He held it over his face, and tried to convince me to listen to something he had to tell me, under there. Yeah fucking right.

I’ve also learnt that if I guy says he’s cold, let him stay that way. His concept of “warming up” isn’t as go-sit-by-the-campfire as yours.

What got me out of being a slut, really, was not drinking for a while. After the whole C and I debacle, I gave up drinking because I never would have cheated if I hadn’t been drunk. And I guess that made me open my eyes a bit as lads would still hit on me, thinking I was drunk, and I would just see with a clear mind how sleazy they were, how much I didn’t want to be there, how absolutely un-genuine their words were. So now even when I’m off my head, I try to think about it as if I was sober. I do like to have fun, of course, and it can be fun to flirt and mess around, but I get so sick of it sometimes.

Obviously, all that is stuff that one of the lads would never do. The lads might give me a few bruises, might pull some practical jokes on me, might tease me but shit. That’s so much more fun than fending off some slimy guy all night. The lads are my actual mates I guess, and I love them, so I do. It can be so much of a relief to get away from girly drama and male flirting and all that shit and just chill out.

Hope all of you have some people like that, I have so much love and respect for them.

Selfish altruism

It’s really quite frustrating, how selfish people are. I don’t have a particular example in mind, I just find it hard to think about.We have evolved to be this way, I guess.

People who sacrificed their own selves or needs for others were not helped by those who helped themselves. Thus, people who helped others got no support, while people who looked after themselves first got twice the everything. Which means they had a better chance at surviving and reproducing etceteraaa… We are what resulted. Real altruism doesn’t seem to exist.

I’m not trying to be depressing but it just seems a bit crappy, I wish people would think about others more… I’m not saying that I am an amazing example of that but I think it’s something we could all work on: making other people happy before ourselves. Imagine if everyone helped everyone over themselves.

Share the..Everything. Everything good 🙂

Think of it: You’re the only person working for your own gain, in competition with those around you. Now think of this: Everyone is working for everyone else’s gain, thus you are helped by everyone you meet, and you help everyone you meet.

It’s a ridiculous idea of course, there are people who want power, there always are. I see this desire for power as the root of all our problems. Whether it’s power over money, resources,  or people, it can be linked with all the wrong done in this world.

It just struck me, while I was in bed the other night, how stupid I was being: feeling upset over some petty thing in my life that went wrong… While there are people out there DYING because they haven’t got enough to eat. Food- it’s something I assume will be available for me whenever I want it. I don’t even assume it really, I hardly think about it. It’s just there, and I get annoyed if my mother takes too long making it. This just seemed to me to be ludicrous because while I’m whining at her to hurry up, there are people who haven’t eaten in far longer than me, there are little children dying of starvation. Here I am, complaining about putting on weight because I eat too much crap. I should appreciate it more.

Dead Kennedys are goood btw 🙂

It seems so stupid, so retarded and wrong, that these problems exist after having been around for so long. There’s all this fighting and war and conflict, and there are babies without clean water to drink. Shouldn’t we sort out our priorities? I tried writing a list of 100 things to accomplish by this time next year and I added “Donate to a charity” today. I keep thinking to myself “But it’s not like I’m going to be able to give much, I’m broke enough anyway, it wont make a difference”, but if enough people do the same then it will make a difference. So you should do something too! Love other people more than your own needs 🙂

Imagine if all the money spent on cigarettes was spent on helping others instead of harming ourselves. Imagine if all the money that teenagers like me spend getting off our heads on the weekend was donated to a good cause. Instead of complaining about homework and parents and exams we should be appreciating our education and all that we have. Damnit my generation is full of idiots 🙂

As is the rest of the world. Power is chosen over life, over the life of a stranger, or a million strangers. Imagine if that could be changed.

Imagine if we could have peace and an end to all this death and hunger and just all be happy.

As I’m sure I’ve said, “imagine” is a big part of my life.

But just… Imagine it.

Giving the Good Day Fish to people could help? Well, with the sharing of happiness maybe..

 

He followed me home.

In movies and such, there is often a scene where a female is ambushed by a  person/s with not-nice intent, but I sort of thought it was just an exaggeration, or that it only happened in cities, or something like that.

Well, that was naive of me!

One night, I was at my neighbours house for her 18th birthday. It was great fun,I spent my time dancing foolishly to awful music, not caring cause it was so funny and there was free drink and smiles all around, gently rejecting a few approaches, having fun and chilling out.

At about 4am I was in a caravan next to the house and I decided I wanted to go home. It was getting late and  I didn’t want anyone asking to stay over at mine, as I’d have had to refuse them and I didn’t want to deal with unpleasant things like that. As well as that, most people had gone home or to sleep in random places, so I left. I trotted of quite smartly as there was this guy, P, who had arrived, who was drunk and loud.

He left too so I went into the house and got my jacket, hoping that he would be turned away by my unavailability. But when I came out, after loitering inside for a bit, he was pissing by the side of the house. I was unnerved by the fact that he was still there, but relieved that he was occupied, so with averted eyes I scaled the fence between our houses. As I was clambering over it, I heard him call after me. Nearly running, I got to the side door of my house and saw that my mother had been an idiot and left the keys in the outside door again, something I was thankful for at that moment. I could hear him climbing over the fence, calling at me to wait. I yanked the keys out and was inside the house, pulling the door closed, when he got in the way. I was just that bit too slow.  I was standing in the doorway, blocking him from coming in, and he was standing between the door and the frame, blocking me from closing it. He asked if he could stay and I told him no – my mother and her boyfriend were here, and one of her friends was staying over: there was no space and he wouldn’t be allowed.

He proceeded to ask repeatedly if he could and I kept saying he couldn’t, and still he persisted in asking if he could. I told him, nicely, to go back over to my neighbour’s and sleep in the caravan as there was space there… But he was having none of it, and then he asked me what I would say if he asked for a kiss. AGH. I told him I’d say no, and so he went into the whole routine of  “Don’t you like me?” I told him it wasn’t that, I just didn’t want to kiss him. He then started asking if and why I preferred D- a sweet little guy who I’m good friends with and who has been included in some rumours relating to me lately, which are false, just because I stayed over at his house. I told him I didn’t and that nothing was going on there, and in fact I hadn’t touched anyone since my last ‘thing’ with a guy. He asked if I was just using him, why I was being a bitch, mean, a tease, all this nonsense designed to make me feel insecure, apologetic, sorry for him. It was like he was trying to flood me with different methods of manipulating someone in the hope that one of them would work, and he didn’t care which, as long as it got him inside. I was trying to be all “assertive” but he was being such a PRICK, hardly listening to me, just picking out things that I said and trying to find weaknesses in them, or just reverting back to accusing me with questions.

Come on, just let me inside.

Don’t you like me?

Why are you being so mean?

Just one little kiss.

Stop being such a bitch.

They’re not strange questions, by which I mean, I’m sure most girls have heard them or questions along those lines from time to time, but he was just so wearyingly repetitive. He was acting so goddamn entitled! Like he had a right, like he for some reason deserved to have his way.  I was trying to remember how to defend oneself against a larger opponent, while keeping him distracted, and also trying not to alert him to the fact that I was trying to distract him. I was relying on the strength of society’s rules to keep him from physically forcing himself inside. It was very undignified because I was standing in the door to my own home, yet I felt at a distinct disadvantage. I was kind of ashamed that I couldn’t get him to leave, and I was trying not to let his words affect me. I didn’t want to wake up my mother to come down and deal with a drunk prat who was harassing me, I know I should be able to deal with that kind of thing myself.

I also didn’t want to overreact because it was just words. He was phrasing everything like it was so reasonable, like I deserved to be called a bitch – not acting like he was being abusive, but like I was being irrationally stubborn. I couldn’t help feeling a little unsure of myself. There’s also the fact that he’s part of my wider circle of friends, so I didn’t want him to start slandering me – I had to try and act good-humoured about the whole thing as I reiterated once again that no, I didn’t personally hate him, and that no, I actually wasn’t in the habit of kissing everyone else, but that I simply didn’t want to kiss him. He also owes me an amount of money that I didn’t want to forfeit. The way it is though, I could have taken a definitive action like punching him but I knew he was drunk and we are sort of friends normally and I didn’t want people to think I was a bitch, or that I had overreacted or anything.

He eventually left, but it didn’t feel like I had won. I had to let him go, even though he was with throwing horrible comments back at me, and being thoroughly unpleasant. I’ve never experienced anything so blatant, before. And yet, it still wasn’t blatant enough for me to feel secure in breaking free from societal expectations and dictations.

So that pretty much ruined my evening; I was a bit shaky, wanted to beat the crap out of him, and I was also upset because he was being terribly mean..

The thing about spoons, right?

So I guess if you know anything about me, you have realized that I am amazing, and basically, kick ass.

I do not think you comprehend the full extent of my delicious range of talents.

I made sandwiches, and not only are they amazing and yummy, but I made them with a SPOON.

Now I await your applause.

Thank you, thank you.

If you wish to inquire as to why I would do such a thing… The condiments and lettuce and such were on the table and that is when I realized the only utensil within reaching distance was a teaspoon.

There was obviously only one possible action then.

And the sandwiches were made.

Have you even done anything of a similar nature?

Anti-talkative

It seems to me that lately I don’t really have much to say to anyone.

Looking at the chat thing on facebook, there are around 10 people who I would probably have chatted with but I seem to be getting worse and worse at making small talk. It worries me a bit though, as I’m obviously not reaffirming my friendships and thus may lose them.

I also notice that the ten people I would chat to are only a percentage of the “friends” who are online, and the other people, I have quite likely only spoken to once or twice before. How utterly, bizarrely pointless. Facebook is quite depressing, I must say.

As I said, I don’t really feel the need to share much, anymore. I am oddly content with my own thoughts, and hardly even felt the need to write this buuut I know that if I stop then I’ll just keep putting it off and then, failure…

So yes. I like being quiet and am happy enough with my own company.

Most of the time anyway.

It’s too available.

I threw up from drinking for the first time last night.

I wasn’t sure if I should share this because it doesn’t exactly show me in the best light,  but I figured I might as well be honest about who I am (and hope my parents don’t find this) because otherwise this blog would be a bit pointless…

And honestly, I’m pretty proud that I’d made it this far- nearly 17- before it happened. I also managed to do it for free. Because I have a certain, ah.. Lack of money. I wasn’t even sure if I should go out but I have generous friends and actually, I think that’s why it happened. Because I did not consume a large amount of alcohol- I just mixed Captain Morgans (Anyone know it? Like it?) and Kepplers (which is piss, unless you’re drunk) and Dutch Gold… And I can’t even remember what the beer tasted like.

Everybody was so lovely to me, as T said, “It happens to everyone”. He lent me his new hoody which was actually unnecessary as I had my own and I was still perfectly clean- obviously I threw up in a very lady-like, restrained manner. Everyone actually commented on how well I did, I see to have a talent for throwing up 🙂 Don’t think I’ll try it again though.

I still can’t get over how sweet everyone was, I guess they know what goes around comes around… And in a small town like I live in that will probably be sooner rather than later. Ireland has a reputation for drinking, and that’s because as young people there’s not really anything else to do. Drinking is just such a part of life, for us young ones at least. Around where I live there isn’t even peer pressure to drink, because it’s not something you do or don’t engage in. You either go out and drink, or stay home and don’t drink.  Or you can go out and not drink and have a crappy time because you just can NOT see what’s so hilarious about getting everyone to stand in a line and touch the wall.

Of course if you decide to overlook that, try to have fun without alcohol, there is always there are also the way-too-readily-available class A and B drugs.

I remember when I was younger, getting drink was a challenge that needed entrepreneurial minds and contacts. Now I can just ask one of my friends to go to the shop. Everyone is getting so old.

I’m exaggerating in a way I suppose, but that’s the side of small town life that I see. I actually stopped drinking for a couple of months earlier in the year and everyone was impressed with me, but going out just wasn’t as fun, I’d sit there feeling all shy  and quiet and end up looking after some one else.

I feel weird, as if I keep crossing these invisible boundaries with my life and with what I do. Anyway, I believe I shall stay at home tonight. It’l be the first weekend I’m not out for, that I can remember.

Missing the future

So I know that smells bring back memories, and listening to the same music that you were listening to at some other point in time can evoke the same feelings you had back then… But, situations?

I guess it’s more like some sort of hybrid déja vu. Well that’s not the word I’m looking for but my mind isn’t functioning correctly it would seem.

Because today, after school, I hung out with C, my ex, and it was just…Weird. At the very start of our relationship and before it when we were just becoming friends, we would meet up and chill out at the library. I think I said here that we hung out a few times since we broke up, but if not, we have and it was always at his house. But today he cycled out on his new little BMX and we just did what we used to do. He did tricks and stuff, ramping off the steps, pretty cool 🙂 Wish I could do that sort of thing.. And we sat and messed round and talked and laughed and it was weird because it was so close to what it used to be, I could almost reach over and kiss him. Almost. Of course I didn’t- that’s not what we are- but it was frustratingly tempting for a while there.

After he left I went to my book club, just like I used to. I got a lift home with a librarian, just like I used to.

It was as I waited outside in the cold that I noticed the similarity with a multitude of nights which would have been identical to it; back then at the start we had a whole plethora of possibilities ahead of us, and now everything is in the past.

But something about everything: the scent of the cold air and the feel of it on my skin, the way it was already dark and I was getting that same lift, it was all the same. And for a small moment I could almost close my eyes and believe that none of the last year had happened. If I tried hard enough I could pretend this was just the beginning of something great, something magnificent. But dreams don’t last, and the knowledge that I can’t go back and start all over again brings with it the feeling of waking up from a particularly beautiful dream and realizing it was all a fantasy and it’s over now.

Because it’s over now.