...but ne'er a drop to drink.

Cork is submerged. And quite frankly, I like it! Yesterday, during the first class after lunch, the vice principal made an announcement over the intercom asking teachers to allow students use their phones to contact their parents. We were being allowed home early due to 'adverse weather conditions'. That's not necessarily a quote from anyone; I just thought it looked better in inverted commas.

I fecked on out of the place anyway. The problem is a bit bigger now though. Water was released from Inniscarra Dam during high tide, and so the city flooded. Washington Street, Grand Parade, over by the Mercy, Western Road and all around UCC, out the Carrigrohane Road and anywhere in between were turned into rivers. All bridges from Inniscarra to the city were closed. It was bad.

Houses and businesses in the city have been destroyed. Student accomodation was evacuated. UCC's new IT building has been severely damaged. Schools were closed. Underground carparks filled up with water, ruining cars. A five-star hotel was evacuated. West Cork under water too.

Having seen pictures, it is absolutely awful for anyone whose house has been damaged, and for the money lost by traders. There's still a little part of me that wants to go into town for sconce around. I'd love to find a little boat, and sail around the city centre. Flood waters appear to be clearing, but high tide is at half 7 or so tonight, and more water will probably be coming down from Inniscarra so we'll have to wait and see whether I can go for coffee in town yet or not.

Water supply has been turned off due to flooding of the water treatment plant on the Lee Road. So, there's a new meaning to the phrase "Water water everywhere, but ne'er a drop to drink'.

Anyone with a boat, please leave a comment. A canoe/kayak will suffice.

I have successfully managed to curb my Internet usage, well for today anyway. After coming home I put the head down and did my homework, even wrote up the Chemistry experiment 'to determine the relative molecular mass of a volatile liquid'. Woo!

After dinner I had a little look around Facebook and PRoC, and managed to stay away until about half an hour ago. Very productive day.

I also found a new Blogger template! Yay! The long search is finally over (for this week anyway).

Ireland played France in the second leg of a world cup qualifier just there. Ireland lost. I didn't watch it because I had to have a shower and then have my Internet time. Every single Facebook update in the past half hour or less have been about the match. I think I may have missed out on a monumental moment in Irish history.

Time to emigrate I guess, before I'm rejected by the Irish population.

I've already been called a loser on Facebook for not watching it like...

After reading this (which I found over at IrishStudentBlogs) I realised just how badly I need to do something similar.

Today, after coming home I made some tea and opened the laptop for a sconce around various forums, blogs and social networking sites. One distraction led to another, and it was half five before I was changing out of my uniform. More procrastination followed, and by the time I sat down to do my homework it was 7:30.

This is slightly ridiculous seeing as I had way too many experiments to write up for both Chemistry and Biology, among other things. So here I am, back on the evil Internet, but only so I can turn over a new leaf.

From tomorrow on, I won't be doing anything as drastic as was described in the link above, but (hopefully) I will adhere to the following rules:
1. No Internet until after dinner.
2. Half an hour after dinner consisting of : Facebook, PRoC, Blogger, Email.
3. Assuming homework has been completed, one hour from 9:00 to 10:00 for various online entertainment.
4. Any iTunes / iPod stuff must also be completed withing these time frames.

We'll see how I get on...

My grandmother was over for dinner today. She comes over every Sunday but this Sunday my mum collected her and my dad dropped her home. It's getting dark so early that she prefers not to drive now. When my dad announced that he was dropping her home I decided to go along for the spin. I love being in the car at night, when it's all dark and the streetlights are on. There's something beautiful about darkness. That, and the fact that I was a bit bored.

And as we drove over I began to realise that I actually cannot remember the last time I was over in her house. It's not that I don't see her, seeing as she comes over to our place twice a week, but in all honesty I had no idea when I had last been over there.

It scared me in a way. I thought I knew exactly what the place looked like, but at the same time I didn't try to picture it in my head. We arrived and we walked her up to the house, and popped inside for a few minutes. This is the house where I spent my time as a baby and as a toddler. When my parents went to work every day I would go over there and my grandparents would mind me, until my dad came to collect me on his way home.

I would talk to my grandparents, maybe go to mass with my nana, go out for a spin, go for lunch, or tea. I'd watch the Countdown or a snooker match with my granda, pick the lotto numbers for him, do some weeding in the garden, play with the toys in the toy box behind the couch, take out a colouring book, play with the neighbour's dog, and help decorate at Christmas. All these memories came flooding back when I stepped through the front door. What shocked me the most was the fact that the place seemed almost new to me, as though I hadn't been there before. I did remember it, but I had forgotten bits too.

That surprised me alright, but what scared me was seeing old age for what it really is. My grandmother, this old woman, has to spend ever night alone in that house. It honestly must be terrifying. I mean, I like my solitude, but having to be alone every night, that's different. And I'm a young 'un. I'm less likely to have a fall or a serious accident, or to be targeted my vandals.

I'm not saying my grandmother is in a depressed state, because she has family and friends that love her and who are always visiting or bringing her out. But as we walked up that wet path in the dark, and climbed those steep steps to the door, it made me realise some stuff.

And I just said I'd share it with the world.

Yesterday, I related to you my experiences at mass of eye-contact and longing. I'll be thinking about him for the week now.

This morning, as per every Sunday, we went down to Kinsale for coffee and a walk on the beach. It was just my mum and me though because my dad and brother were down in Clonakilty at a tennis tournament. Just in case you wanted a more detailed description of the scenario.

Before the summer, I had regularly seen this family come into the same café where we go and have coffee/breakfast. What caught my eye however, was not this irrelevant similarity, but the two teenage sons of the family, who were damn good looking. my mother, in her typical ways, would point them out to me and so on.

Today they came into the café again and once they sat down the mother said "So tell us about the party last night". That sentence is so bloody familiar to me, that I laughed. The two guys, who may be twins because they look very alike and seem to be the same age, were joined by a friend. One of the sons had his arms on the table and his head lying on top of them. They each ordered a glass of milk. It made me smile because they were having the Sunday morning I always have after a night out : feeling wrecked and hungover, and then trying to think of what I can and can't tell my parents about the night before.

Eye contact was made with the hot one. Mmmm... I wonder do their parents allow them drink, or are they actually eighteen? Whose party were they at? "Did they meet any nice girls?" Such a classic Mom sentence. Yet they had to sit their, unable to escape the interrogation. We're so alike it's ridiculous.

I wouldn't mind getting to know them either.

I've have tried so many templates, but I can never seem to find one that suits me just perfectly. It's hard when my blog isn't focused on anything in particular, but just whatever I feel like going on and on about on a given day.

For the past few weeks I had a mostly white page, with a blue banner at the top and some musical graphics of a gramophone and the like. I got a bit fed up of it though, so I chose to try out Hemingway. I'm liking the colours, the font, and the beautiful simplicity of it, but I'd kinda prefer if the posts were in one column instead of two because I think it all looks a bit confusing at the minute.

In other news, I finally found my camera charger today after months of my camera lying on the dressing table all alone. I had been hunting high an low for it, and mentioned it to my mother a little while ago, and of course her suggestion as to where it could be was correct. SO the battery is currently charging, and hopefully I can start taking pictures again, maybe even posting a few here if I feel so inclined. I'm in no way any good at photography whatsoever but I'd rather use my own images instead of robbing them from other locations.

Sin é.

I mention this place alot, so I may as well dedicate a post to it.

Simply put, it is the best coffee shop in Cork city. It has beautifully eccentric decor, friendly staff, amazing coffee and at reasonable prices.

I could spend hours, wait I do that already. No, I could spend days in there.

I bring it up now, as yesterday it won first prize in the café/restaurant category of the Cork Better Building Awards.

I happened to come across this website >> http://lifestyle.cometocork.ie/index.php/awards/better-building-awards/
and downloaded the Power Point presentation that was shown at the awards ceremony. And lo and behold, when I came to the slide for Cork Coffee Roasters we are there, sitting inside behind the guys at the window.

Not much of a surprise considering the amount of time we spend in there.

And fair fock's to them for winning that award. 'Tis well deserved.

An unusual combination I hear you think.

Last night, as I retired to bed I got a text from a number I didn't know just saying a friendly 'hello how are you'. After a few texts I realised it was a best friend's cousin. One night, my friends and I decided to text randomers and just say 'I love you.' I text this guy and he was really curious as to who I was. I had completely forgotten all about it and then last night we exchanged first names.

Today, I was walking over a bridge in town en route to Cork Coffee Roasters with two friends, one of whom is my 'I love you' guy's cousin. It was a cold enough day, but the sky was clear and there was a really good buzz around town. There was a flash mob dance thing as part of a protest against cuts in Arts funding and Cork looked like a cool place to be. The people looked good and everything seemed so nice.

So as we walked across this bridge and along the quays we commented on how this situation would unfold itself if we were living in a film. It would be something like this. We would keep texting for a while and then either happen upon each other and fall in love, subsequently finding out we had been texting each other all along. Or we would decide to meet up and then fall in love. The first option is by far the more commercial option but the second is a little (but not much) more realistic.

We'd get married and his cousin/my friend would be bridesmaid. And the cute/ironic/cheesy thing about the whole story would be the fact that the very first time we communicated it was to say 'I love you.' Altogether now : Awww.

When I came home from town my mum made my brother and I go to mass with her. This story is slightly different from the first, in that it's not as stylish or classy, but a nice idea nonetheless. When I go to mass my mind wanders and I think about all sorts of things. Today I found myself being distracted by a nice young man sitting in the next block of seats. I am fully aware the seats in a church are called pews, but these were not pews. The old little country church is being refurbished so mass is now held in the GAA hall. And we sit on plastic grey chairs. How glamorous.

As the priest droned on I took sideways glances at my newfound interest. He was about 17 and was tall and slim. He was wearing jeans, a grey t-shirt and a black jumper, and had spiky-ish black hair. He looked cool. At one stage we made eye-contact. Big whoop I know but it was the best I could do considering we were at mass. And then I caught him looking at me. Nothing too maajor, but a nice way to while away mass all the same.

Inevitably as I was walking out he was right next to me/in front of me, but unfortunately my mother was too. She's always in the way at the worst times. He had his phone in his hand. If this was a movie I'd have taken his phone out of his hand and put my number in his phonebook. But life's not a movie, especially not in a small-ish country-ish but still near the city parish. And there was the obstacle of my mother. But it was a nice thought anyway.

My mother was smirking away to herself, not realising she looked like a frumpy dope in her jeans-and-runners combo which I have rarely seen her leaving the house in before. She was, of course, smirking at the 'nice young boy'. As soon as I closed the car door after me she started. 'There was one nice lad in the whole church. Did you see him?' and she proceeded to give me a detailed description of what he was wearing. My brother threw in the fact that he was wearing Converse. How could I not like him?! Then Mumsie told me how she saw him taking a good glance of me as we were walking out of the GAA hall-come-church. Ah lovely! How convenient. Shall I marry him, mother? Then she tried to find him and point him out to me as we were driving out of the church. Does she think I am that blind?

It would be nice to get to know him though. I mean he obviously lives near me and I wouldn't mind at all at all having a friend from round these parts. Now I have to go to mass next week though. Feckin' dose, and knowing my luck he won't even be there. Christmas fair would be a good time to strike up a conversation, but if I had to stay at that jumble/cake sale that they consider to be a Christmas fair, I might just go mad.

All in the name of love though.

Don't know what to write about.

*sigh*

I had an Irish test today on 'An Bhean Óg', which went surprisingly well. Despite the fact that I hadn't learned either of the essays we were going to be getting, I managed to write two-and-three-quarter pages. School actually wasn't too bad today.

My dad bought a new car the other day. Well new to him, 5 years old to the world. It's pretty. One day, long in the future, after I've had the Polo, the Corsa, the Corolla and so on, I'd like to have a car like his, but in shiny black.

You know sometimes when you've got this feeling, but you can't place it. Like you feel like there's something you should be worrying about, or stressed about, or maybe even happy about, but you just can't seem to remember what it is. Or like you've messed something up, but you can't remember. I kind of have that feeling. In the negative way.

Maybe it's just that I feel I should be starting my homework, but maybe it's something more than that. Maybe I feel like I've disappointed someone in some way. Like I should have accepted their invitation and now I regret it. Sometimes I am so, so stupid.

I know I never appreciate people when I have them, and that I always want people when I can't have them; always lusting after what I can't have. What's so much worse is when you had someone before, but didn't want them, and let them go, but now you want them and you can't have them.

Sometimes I just want to talk to someone. Who am I kidding, not someone, but that one. Him. I loved the chats we used to have. I told him so much, and he listened, he really did. He gave me advice, and made me smile every minute of every day. I know it's not like that any more, but for that happiness he gave me, I am forever grateful.

Now, I worry about him. I always have. Not in a way that affects me every waking moment, but I know there's something up with him at times. It makes me sad, because, beneath it all, he's just a big softie who needs someone to love him. In ways, I wish so badly I could give him that, just give him a hug, or say something, or be someone, who makes his isolation go away.

It's weird how much his name means to me. When I see it, it's like it says so much. We talked about stuff I wouldn't be blabbing about every day and it's just...

Now that he's gone, I don't miss him. But I do cherish those memories I have, even if to others, they look like nothing.

But now, I need someone else. But until I find him, what do I do now?

I physically cannot bring myself to do any homework. At all. I'm sitting here with this feckin' laptop glued to my lap and wasting my evening away. I was in town until half 5 and when I got home I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to take out a book. Disaster. I was so much better back in the good ol' JC days.

Was heading into town after school today for a meeting at 4pm. Didn't have to get the bus in because Aisling's mum came and gave us a lift seeing as she thought it was going to be raining. Off to a good start!

Then had an hour or so to kill before Caroline came in so I went to BTs and changed out of my uniform; looked around Oasis, A|wear, H&M, Penneys, Topshop, Debenhams and so on, and then headed up to Cork Coffee Roasters to meet Caroline.

Being the absolute retard that I am, I left my phone at home today so I had no way of contacting anyone and it just about nearly killed me. I couldn't tell my parents when or where to meet me, or get in touch with Lorna to see was she coming up from Tralee for the meeting, or text Caroline to arrange somewhere to meet. Ugh. NEVER leaving the house without it again.

After having the good ol' cup of coffee, we walked through the lashing rain to Civic Trust House. I was involved with this youth theatre project as part of Cork Midsummer Festival this past year and the meeting today was regarding the future of the project. Seems verrry exciting altogether. If I get to do it and it goes ahead etc, then we'd be going to Scotland, Helsinki, London, Belgium, Holland, Dublin, Belfast, and last but not least, Cork. And everything's paid for.

Lorna offered to give me a lift home, so we walked in the rain to Paul Street, me falling en route and ripping my tights, and then had a wander around a few floors of the carpark before we found the car. Traffic was deadly, but we had a nice chat. Need to sort some form of a fake ID actually...

But I've done nothing since them, except eating food. Think I might go to bed now and read. I should really have had a shower coz my hair is severely curly after the rain but I kinda ran out of time. Tomorrow; tomorrow shall be productive.

Hopefully.

Every Monday, Tuesday and Friday I have Irish in a classroom with an amazing view. When I sit down in the back corner of the room I can see all the way up as far as the city centre.

From day to day the view varies. Some days it's raining and misty and dull and cloudy. Others it's sunny and bright and clear and fresh. It doesn't matter whether it dry or wet, there's still something absolutely magical about that view. It's like you're here, inside this classroom, with a 28 other people wearing the same clothes and listening to a woman try to teach you something. Only a few metres away, there's a completely different world going on. There's women (and men) doing jobs at home, or watching tv, or on the phone. There's people commuting to and from work, meetings, catching up with friends. There's students struggling to drag their hungover heads out of bed.

And all this, separated by a mere sheet of double-glazed glass. You are so near, but yet so cut off, and so separated from this world you desperately long to be a part of. I can see various UCC buildings. It makes me think of how the only reason I am sitting in classrooms for 7 hours a day is so that, in two years time, I can be there. I can be sitting in lecture theatres learning about stuff that interests me; that is my passion.

And for a split second, I am motivated by that thought. But then I come back to reality; I focus on the teacher, and I wish, I wish so hard, that I could be a kilometre downstream walking around the Quad, or strolling down College Road, or having a coffee in town. I want to be living a life out there with the rest of the world.

Being me, and enjoying the little things, one day at a time.

I got up early, had a shower, a slice of toast and went to town with my mum. I went for coffee with her and then wandered around. Ran into her later in H&M and she bought me an amazing grey jacket. This made me happy.

None of my friends were coming in I thought, but then I text Caroline and she was around until her French grinds at 2. So we went for coffee in Gusto. By 'we went for coffee' I mean she had a coffee and I sat there watching her learn her French vocab. I used to really love Gusto, but in recent weeks Cork Coffee Roasters has taken over. Nowhere can compare.

Caroline went off to French grinds so I went looking at grey jackets in various shops to make sure there wasn't something better (and cheaper) out there. There wasn't. Then Liam came in, and as I was going to meet him, Hannah came in, so we met him in Tesco and went for lunch in Tribes. I hadn't been there in so long. Last time was the for the most recent Coolaboola meeting. It's Coolaboola's official meeting place y'see. I like Tribes. Despite the fact that it's ridiculously expensive for what you get, it's all cosy and warm and homely and comfortable, and you can just hide away from the world and never come out.


When we finished there Hannah and I went shopping with Liam. To Dunnes. Dunno if you call that shopping but whatever. Caroline came to meet us, and form there we headed to Penneys but it was way too busy so we left and went to Cork Coffee Roasters. This is becoming an increasingly common pattern in my life. We sat at that little counter for about 2 hours, probably more actually, only getting up to order coffee / use the facilities, although Hannah and Caroline did leave at one point to go to H&M and Liam went across the road for a few "messages" before we ordered.

Just as we were sitting down with our coffees we noticed a Garda walking up the street towards Centra. I have a bit of a thing for men in uniform so, naturally enough, I kept an eye on him. He went up to this group of teenage knackers who were congregated outside Centra. He took one of them aside, who had a can in his hand. We watched the boy's heart break as he was made pour the can out on the street, and was then made hand over the other three cans in his pockets. And along comes this old hobo, and the Garda gives the hobo the three cans who proceeds to pocket them, and walk back the way he came, slowly but surely. Everyone in the coffee shop was watching this event and laughing; the guy who was working there even came down to the window for a gawk.

But it was just so nice in there. It's such an amazing place. You go in there and it's a different world. The best coffee ever, the friendliest staff, the cutest decor. The place is full of superlatives I tell you. We talked about everything and anything, whiling away the time as the rest of the world moved on outside, sometimes covered in a blanket of rain.


Eventually we managed to tear ourselves away from the place. A bit of a culture shock was in store for us because Caroline wanted a fecking footlong sub, so Liam and I waited downstairs for them, commenting on the dismal sight of the recently shut-down Romeos. That place was only open for about a week (slight exaggeration). We took a stroll to Tesco, passing the gangs hanging around outside, and bought some cheap-ass Coke and a big bag of McCoys salt & vinegar crisps. Savings galore we got.

Together we headed down Careys Lane to the bus stop, loaded with bottles and Coke and crisps and clothes and bags. That's a really cute street / lane actually. It's all narrow and pretty and historical and musical. What more could you want from a lane? We got onto a lovely double decker number 8, sitting in the 'upper saloon', always in the back of our minds that we may topple over at any second. Thankfully, to date, this has not happened.

We got off the bus at Bishopscourt Green and walked back, passed the cop shop Garda station and up the hill to Niamh's gaff. The rents are away in NY, so like any normal teenager, she decided to have a gathering, which obviously turned into more of a party than a gathering. You know when you put "Bring your own drink!" in the text it's never going to be just a gathering.


So it all started off ok. There was a nice selection of crisps and chocolate and sweets, along with a few bottles of coke, just crying out to be mixed with vodka. Hannah, Liam and I were the only ones who had managed to get some "messages" so the others were waiting for those with the fake IDs to come along. They came along, and the rest, as they say, is history.

That is until some random guys who weren't invited turned up and forced their way in through the back. Things got a bit noisy and messy, tensions were raised and a punch or two were thrown. The house was a wreck, random guys started fighting, but out came our tae-kwon-do heroes to save the day as people were ordered to leave.

But not before the neighbours came in. As I stood in the kitchen I suddenly noticed two people about 25 years older than everyone else in the house standing and staring at the utter mess of the place. Our black belt-ers forced more people out, and then the word spread that the Gardaí had been called. Fuck. Caoilfhionn and I sourced some refuse sacks and began clearing up every single bit of evidence. Two stuffed bags later the place looked alright, and we went making sure everyone who shouldn't be there were gone. I went and checked on Niamh who was being looked after in the utility room / bathroom. More people came in saying "Oh it wasn't my fault. I was only helping. Is everything ok?" "Yeah, everything's great. Thanks for stopping a civil war from breaking out. You're great. Can you leave now?". We rescued the dog from some guys who came round the back, kicked the last few people out, and locked all the doors.

I still don't know whether or not the Gardaí came, but if they did, they didn't come inside. We profusely thanked the neighbours for coming in and assured them we'd be fine. Once the majority of people had left the rest of the portay-goers went into the living room and watched some ridiculously horrendous X-Factor Uncut type show. Or maybe it was Who Wants To Be A Millionaire actually. Yeah, I remember a question about Blakjack and Blackball, or something to that effect. Instead I decided to go get the hoover out and clean the gaff. I do remember Liam being out with a spray-bottle of Dettol at one stage too to be fair.


After the place was all clean we went into the living room and sat down, analysing the night that had been. All us 'girls' were there, and randomly, in the middle of us all, who else but Liam. Sitting there on the couch with a blanket over his legs and the dog on his lap. That boy...I swear to God. But in the good way :). I made some tea. Then Ashling put on pizza and chips. And we crowded around the kitchen table tucking into the Tesco Value tomato and cheese pizzas and oven chips.

This is the stuff dreams are made of.

A few nights ago I had a dream about this guy I knew. My ex-tennis coach to be exact. He was only doing it for the few bobs really, but out of every single tennis coach I have had, he is by far my favourite. He was a cool guy. And I dreamed about him. I dreamed about hugging him in front of all my peers. I don't know what that means. I'm not big into the whole interpreting dreams thing, but to me, it's like it's telling me that I miss him, and that I want to be close to him again.

He moved away, to foreign lands, so i no longer see him. But now I know other people; others who have followed in his footsteps in recent times. And I'm worried I'll lose them too. What sucks so much is that I'm not best friends with them, because I can't be. Who am I to them? Compared to everyone else they've left behind, who am I to be the one Facebooking them or on MSN to them? They leave, and you can't do anything else. Try and talk to them as much as possible and you look a bit stalkerish and desperate, because they're not your best friend.

And like that, they're gone. People you may have only just been getting to know. For me, it's only just starting. People you wanted to get to know so badly just disappear off into the sunset. College draws people like magnets. This time next year I'll be thinking about what to put down on my CAO form, and this time two years, alot of my friends will have gone their separate ways. It's a scary thought.

It feels like only yesterday that friends were made and lost in seconds; that school meant a day of playtime; and all my problems and drama didn't exist.

Who should you trust? Do you give everyone the benefit of the doubt and hope for the best that they don't mess you around? Or is it better to be suspicious of everyone around you, and miss out on some wonderful people and experiences, but never really get fucked around?



It's something to think about. Like when a person acts as if they like you, but deep down you have some feeling that they're not being completely honest with you; that they're only trying to mess with your mind. But you only think this because that person is so damn nice and cool that you don't think you deserve them, that you believe you're not good enough for them.

Another little part of your brain, no, heart, is explicitly happy at the fact that they seem to like you, or at least that's what they claim. You want to trust them more than anything in the world. You want to believe that you are actually friends, and it makes you happy. Happy because they're happy, because you're happy.

Unless you want to spend your life miserable and alone, blocking everyone out, and not willing to let anyone in, then you're just going to have to take a leap of faith and go with your instinct. If your gut feeling is that this person is really messing you around then trust yourself. But heartbreak and tears are all part of life. You wouldn't know who your real friends were without them.

I have tried. I really have. All the quotes are written out, divided in to sections depending on how you would use them, along with a point about each one. I have read over them time and time again, blocked them with a page, tried to say them spontaneously, and listen Ms. Whelton, I CANNOT REMEMBER THEM. Ok?

I have also learned three chapters of Business, and French vocab, and frankly, I don't care about those quotes. I'll know a few important ones by the time the Leaving comes around, and I'll get by with those. Fridays have just morphed into Test Days. Sigh.

This week has gone pretty quickly actually. Christ I never thought I'd survive when I was getting up on Monday morning, but here we are, almost at the other end. Weekend doesn't look too bad. Niamh just text we there and invited me to her gaff gathering on Saturday night. I really do love parents who go off on holidays / breaks and leave their kids at home so they won't miss any of the all-important fifth year.

We had this interview thing in school today for the School Bank Team. I applied for Bank Manager but there's not a hope in hell that I'll get it. Not that I care, because to be quite honest, the bank is always an Epic Fail (with capital letters, yes) and I have enough as editor of the magazine. Interview wasn't bad, but I didn't really get to show off all my achievements and whatnot as much as I'd have liked. I mean, I could have talked for aaaages about Kinsale Arts Week, but when I mentioned all that gig stuff she told me I was an 'arty type' and into 'theatre'. That's obviously not bank manager material, but it made me think about what I really am supposed to do with my life; like what am I born to do? I didn't have any major revelations, just more questions. All I have these days is questions...

I want to go to bed know, and curl up with 'My Sister's Keeper' and read until my eyes will no longer stay open.

Oíche mhaith.

(Photo taken from http://golez.net - Check it!)

Some Wednesdays are absolutely horrific. Despite the fact that we get a half day, it's not a whole lot of good to me seeing as I can't get a lift home for an hour and a half after I finish. Which just isn't good.

Today though, today was nice. Non-uniform day at school for a start, although it proved to be quite annoying due to my too-big jeans. My friend, Aisling (although I don't call her this. I call her Botch. She calls me Botch.), was going to town so I said I'd join her. After a little spot of embarrassing running between bus stops either side of my school I managed to get on the bus, albeit slightly out of breath. Not to worry. Although I was worrying about the fact that the bus was packed and every window was closed. Anyway..

The two of us went to tkmaxx first to go to the bathroom for make-up-putting-on purposes and whatnot. The bathrooms are pretty nice and big enough with shiny black tiles and circular mirrors. But we went down the steps, and to our horror, discovered that you now have to pay 20c to use the bathrooms!!! We just stood there, stunned, going ohmygod ohmygod when a man came over and put the 20c in for us. Weird, in the creepy way. Not good.

We had a little stroll around and Botch bought some nice blue tights, we passed the cute guy from O2, she then got some credit, we passed Rich singing Heyday, and finally got to Cork Coffee Roasters. Free coffee for me with my loyalty card (YaY!) and a scone. Nice chat. Bus home (and not on my own). Nice dinner. My Nana brought cakes over. Not a bad day.

And now that Wednesday is over we're on the home straight for the weekend. Just two more days left. I have an interview for School Bank Manager tomorrow though. It's only going to take about 5 minutes but ugh. I kinda have enough on my plate so I'm contemplating coming across seriously incompetent tomorrow. Maybe, maybe not.

I'll finish up now before you fall asleep and sue me for damage to your keyboard from your head falling on it.

Slán.

I am sitting at home on the couch. Pure bliss. Well, relatively. Another Monday has come and gone. Funny how during holidays, Mondays are the best. Like last Monday I felt like the rest of my life lay ahead. I mean, seriously, a whole week. School would never come around, right?!

Mondays tend to go pretty fast anyway because I've a double business, and classes are 5 minutes shorter than the other days. Got two tests back today. The bad news first: 86% in Maths. Now for the good news: 100% in Chemistry. Woo! Science rocks...

Right now I want to find some of that chocolate that my brother got trick-or-treating at the weekend, but my mother has hidden. Lovely, just lovely. I can have an orange, or a cracker with my cup of coffee instead. How appetising.

I like how it's dark so much earlier now, but I hate how it's brighter in the mornings. Mornings should be dark and sleepy, not bright and happy. This morning, I couldn't remember whether my dad had woken me or not, but my door was open, so I figured I had been roused. I went to switch on my lamp and my aunt who's staying with us appeared in the doorway with a cheery "Good morning!" I am very sorry, but that is just NOT something a person who wishes to continue their life on this planet says. I could have shot her. It is just plain wrong. She shouldn't even be up and dressed at that hour, not to mention bidding us all a good morning. Grr...mornings = dark, depressing, quiet, moody, tired. Got that?

I haven't had a day off school in ages, where everyone else is out, and a day that I don't need to have a shower coz my hair looks good anyway, and I can just cuddle up under my duvet on the couch and watch crappy daytime tv. Even at that, it's more the thought of it than anything else that's appealing. If I do have a day off, I prefer to get up and make the most of it. Generally, I tend to go to town at the crack of dawn, purely because I need a lift to the suburbs with the 'rents, and I wait around for a few hours until my friends come in. Not as bad as it sounds, I swear.

I still have my Biology homework left to do, and then maybe a weensy bit of study, and then a shower, and if I've time, I might actually open that Theory Test handbook. I crave freedom.

So our mini-summer has been and gone. When we left school on that joyous Friday after a horrific Maths test, it was but merely autumn. We return to its doors having walked through winter winds. Only 6 weeks now 'til Christmas exams and then the whole holidays thing will start again.

Mid-term really did surpass many expectations. I went out a good bit, and didn't spend EVERY waking second with the exact same people. We spent sleeping seconds together too! Nah, it really was a good week, and Christ did I need the break. I had my plans to do my homework the first weekend and then a little bit of study each day, but we only make plans so we can go against them and then feel like we've actually done something worthwhile.

I've my written homework that's due tomorrow done, but haven't even begun learning those stoopid quotes from Hamlet. May as well learn the whole play the amount we're getting. I'm not going to freak out about school anymore; I'll survive.

I played alot of guitar over the past week, which was nice. It's been a while since I've learned new songs and it's a damn good feeling. Bought a new capo too which is easier to change, and is ten times better seeing as it raises the pitch evenly instead of having everything all over the place. I'm still using the first pick that I got with the guitar. It's a nice soft, pale grey Dunlop one with little bits of dents in it from being used so much. I have others, but they're alot harder, more for the ol' electric when I'm jamming on a Sunday with the band. =P

I wish I didn't have to go back to that place tomorrow. It has been SO good to just be able to forget about it for a week and not have to wear that uniform, or sit in those horrible hospital-coloured classrooms and count down the hours 'til I can leave. And now we return to results from those tests last Friday and "back into the swing of things" again.

I cannot wait for Saturday when I will go for coffee in Cork Coffee Roasters and get a free coffee with my full loyalty card. Or perhaps Friday afternoon.

It's going to be a long week.

It's not a holiday I exactly count the days down to each year, but I really did enjoy yesterday. I spent Friday night googling various forms of the phrase "easy halloween costume ideas" and did come up with a good few possibilities, but in the end I went with a cowgirl. How riveting. It was easy though. I just wore a denim skirt, tank top, check shirt, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Done.

Town was kinda fun yesterday because everyone was in a, like, Halloween spirit if that makes sense. Queues outside mmmad costume shop ffs. Seriously, kids these days have no creativity. Got FREE lunch in town yesterday too with my full Wholy Grain loyalty card, so I got a cajun chicken sandwich with mixed peppers, red onion, grated cheddar cheese and jalapeno relish on white. Savage. My next coffee in Cork Coffee Roasters shalll also be free. I love my loyalty cards.

So we went to Aoife's Halloween party anyway. Good laugh in fairness. A load of people came in the end and it was just a fun night in general. No major shit went down, which is nice for a change, and it was a helluva lot better than Internet / X Factor (which I don't even watch but I'm throwing in here so it has some relevance to what everyone's talking about these days) / wandering around in the dark.

School tomorrow. Death. Midterm went waaaay too fast, and I haven't even started my homework yet, which I should reeeeally get around to one of these hours now. So much for my study plans for midterm anyway...