I Am Free From Those Unwanted Subjects! (Personal Opinion)

I know I’ve written a lot about secondary school and stuff but this is only going happen once in my life. That chapter in my life has come to a close, and I’m only beginning to realize certain things. Like the fact that I will never, ever, ever,ever,ever,ever have to do science or French again. While I’ve had a this feelingbefore like after 1st year when I was able to drop Art(I hated it more than life),Spanish, and T.G.(I didn’t hate it I just couldn’t do it). Also again after 3rd year when I dropped Business Studies, Geography(hated the teacher so fucking much), History,Home Economics, and exam Religion. I was ecstatic to drop most of these subjects. I usually either hated the teacher, didn’t have any interest in the subject, and/or just genuinely couldn’t do the subject. For Art, Geography and 3rd year Religion it was all three of these things. None of these teachers liked me at all. The Art teacher moved me to the back of the room and would never look at what I was doing. I was up at the front a lot in Geography because we all had to sit in alphabetical order and lucky me, I got to sit right in front of her blotchy fake tan covered face for 3 years. I used the internet for all my geography homework, because I couldn’t do it and that teacher would always ask the homework questions, or least she did for a while, so I didn’t want to embarrass myself. She did begin to ignore me for a while which I actually loved because being asked something in class is probably when my anxiety is at it’s worst. She was one of the teachers that I was scared of, mostly because she was unpredictable. Sometimes she would yell, other times she try to make a joke or remark and it was hard to tell whether we were suppose to laugh or not. There was one day in 3rd year when I thought I had science but I had read my timetable wrong and I was supposed to be in geography and then science. So I went to my home class to get my geography books after realising my mistake after a good 5 or 10 minutes when the hall by the science lab was empty and void of my classmates. I ran down to the geography room and freaked out for about another 2 minutes outside the door anticipating that she would give out to me. I knocked on the door, as she insisted that is was good manners, and then I opened the door, she looked and me when I came in but continued to talk to the rest of the class as I tried to quickly and quietly get to my seat right in front of her. This bitch was always on about manners, she could learn a thing or two about manners herself. Clicking your fingers at someone and pointing at someone is the height of bad manners. It also didn’t help that she would sometimes do this for no obvious reason and she would rarely explain herself. It usually meant she wanted you to cease and desist from what you were doing but sometimes the person she was clicking at did nothing. I still got a C in geography in the Junior Cert, so I showed her. The 3rd year religion teacher was just a sub while my normal religion teacher was on maternity leave for practically the entirety of 3rd year. She just hated me from the instant she met me. Believe me I hated her too. She was correcting my religion project, blacked out stuff that I wrote, and blamed me for being messy with my writing because I was blacking out stuff. I never did that, so I had to pretend to be sorry but I was just really confused and when I got it back I knew that I hadn’t done it. Again I got a C so I showed that bitch.

I actually liked History,Home Ec., and Business Studies. I always found certain parts of history interesting. I liked learning about the Romans, American history, the world wars, and social change in Ireland. While I liked all these things that didn’t mean I could learn them. No matter how much I tried I could never remember anything in history. Not that the teacher was much help, she would spend ages at one chapter. She would go back over every part but say different things every time or leave something out so I just got confused, and I gave up. I went into the exam without having really gone over anything that wasn’t the first 10 chapters and the social change chapter. Can you guess what I got? Another C! Suddenly I C why I dropped all these subjects(Please tell me that was a pun!).I’ve discussed my love/hate relationship with Home Ec. in a previous post but I was really good at the theory, sucked at cooking/baking/washing up, but I did like my teacher. Also any Home Ec. classes involving cooking usually involved tears for me because something would always go wrong. I didn’t really like my business studies teacher. She wasn’t that bad in reflection though, she did move me to a different seat in 2nd year away from my friend, but didn’t real care about me sitting next to her in 3rd year. My friend and I did absolutely no work in 3rd year business. We were over at the side of the room talking and drawing in each others books the entire time. I’m sure everyone could hear us, and yet my teacher never gave out to us. She did give out to the girls at the other side of the room who were used to it seeing as it happened in every other class that they were in. Business was the only class where I was always talking during it. I didn’t do my homework about half the time because she stopped checking it and just gave out answer sheets so doing the homework was just pointless sometimes(except if I wanted to do well, which I sort of did). I would do it sometimes for fun though, because I loved doing the accounting stuff so much. I would get all giddy and excited if/when my profit, loss and depreciation accounts would balance.

I was so excited when I found out that accounting was it’s own separate subject in the Leaving Cert and when our Vice Principal gave a talk about it one day I couldn’t wait to start it. Unfortunately I never got to do it because it clashed with French and I had to keep a language in case I needed it,WHICH I DID NOT!!!! I was distraught when they made me sort out my options. I wanted to quit school, accounting was going to be my fun subject (I think,from what I heard, accounting wasn’t that easy after all). My college plans were going to be me doing an accounting course, I was looking forward to it 2 years ago. I know it’s for the best that I didn’t do it, everything happens for a reason and it was meant to be blah,blah,blah. I just really wanted to do it so much. Besides accounting and French, I had 2 other options that I had picked myself that I was doing for the Leaving Cert. They were Biology and Chemistry. Almost everyone does Biology, people think it’s the easiest science because all you do is learn stuff off (I think it depends on how your brain works and learns stuff). I really wanted to do Chemistry because I loved learning about the elements and how many electrons,protons and neutrons made up each one. So I was going to do 2 sciences anyways. With accounting not being a viable option for me anymore, I hadn’t much choice seeing as the only other subject I would’ve been interested in was Music and I dropped that in 1st year so I couldn’t do that. I ended up having to pick Physics. I was doing the 3 sciences and French, the exact same options that my brother did. The thing is, unlike my brother, I hated doing science. I didn’t understand anything, I just tried to learn stuff off, not knowing what anything meant.I don’t think anyone knew how difficult I found it, my teachers just thought I wasn’t working. I was trying to understand it for months and I just couldn’t no matter if they explained it again or not. I told people all the time “oh I hate science” and I was saying it because it was true and I had little to no other options, I was never good at it.  I somehow managed to pass all my sciences. I did the worst in chemistry and in 5th year it was my favourite science. I liked most of the maths and numbers involved in chemistry. I really liked oxidation and reduction numbers. They are the easiest thing that I found on the entire course. I got nearly full marks on the question on them that came up in the pre. However, it never came up in the real thing. What did come up was a calculation that we learned really late into 6th year, that I could never do or understand because I didn’t spend enough time trying to figure it out so I never got it. I actually kind of liked all the sciences in 5th year, it was in 6th year when I started to hate them all. I got too busy to learn some of the new stuff so I got really behind on work and I was doing new work as well as the revision homework that was set and I found the revision stuff easier so I just focused on that because it was more fun to me. I’ve been really happy since realizing that I will never have to do science ever again. So I can add this to the list of subjects that are “dead and gone” out of my life, “they’re with O’ Leary in the grave.”

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A Letter To Social Anxiety.

Dear Social Anxiety,

Why hello again! I was wondering when you would rear your ugly head back up again. You hadn’t been around for so long then when one little thing happens, you swoop right in. How have you been? Did you enjoy the vacation away with the wife, paranoia is it? She too seems to have made the journey back with you I see. Me? Oh you know I can’t complain, I was kept company by your cousin depression, it’s nice to have the family all back together isn’t it? I nearly forgot what you were like, you were gone for almost 2 weeks. You didn’t interfere with my social outings until just recently(not that there’s been many, just more than usual). Without you around, I wasn’t at my hands as much, you know how I nervously pick at my nails or scratch at my hand whenever I’m anxious in public. If it wasn’t for depression lingering around, I nearly would’ve felt normal. Your cousin is incredibly good at his job, like I’ve been getting up late in the mornings thus skipping breakfast (also that one day I accidentally left a 10 hour gap between the only two meals that I had that day. Which hurt a lot and I will never make that mistake again) , and I got a cold so I feel more tired which seems to give him more power over me. Yet the day you come back, I actually eat breakfast. I guess you’re not all bad.

You make me always want to apologise for everything. I freak out over nothing because of you. You are the voice inside my head that tells me not to go out and have social interactions. You tell me I’ll just screw up and make myself look like a idiot. So when I disobey your orders and do go out, you make me suffer. You inflict the pain upon me that you had warned me about. Is it any wonder no one talked to me for years? You forced me to block out and ward away any new people because you didn’t want me to be having a good time. All these years, I was sitting in my room alone when I could have been out there living life and having experiences. I could have been out there living instead of passing through life trying to survive by hiding from people, because you told me that they would hurt me and I was better off not making myself an embarrassment in front of any more people than I already have. You make me constantly nervous to be around everyone. I can’t look people in the eye for very long, I always need to keep my head down. You have given me a number of bad/nervous habits. The hand scratching and picking at my nails which I’ve just mentioned, biting the skin of my lip leaving loads of red marks on it after it gets cut, and cracking my fingers, toes, elbows, ankles and wrists.

When you do let me have, somewhat, normal interactions with people, you cause me to say the wrong thing a lot of the time or else say very little. When I don’t say a lot, and with my lack of eye contact, it seems as though I’m not interested in the conversation. However, with no help from you, I try to wrack my brain for something to say thus making me more anxious. While I’m searching my mind for something to say, the person I’m trying to have a conversation with is staring at me and I can’t help but to feel anxious. Why do you do this to me? I don’t want to seem like the bad kind of weird to people anymore, but I know that’s what they think when they see me freak out over something minor. I would greatly appreciate if you could go fuck off for the start of college, I really don’t need/want you around for that and take depression with you he’s brewed up an immense storm already. What will it take to get rid of you guys for a couple of weeks? Money? Pills? Alcohol? Okay well maybe not alcohol, that is a depressant you know! I know that you aren’t a physical thing so I can’t cut you out of me, I wish it was that simple I would gladly go get a knife right now. You will never be simple.

With great pain and a formal feeling,
Sandra Moynihan.

Childhood Dreams: What I Wanted For The Future.

All kids have dreams, something that they aspire to be or something that they want to happen in the future. I felt like my posts recently have been a bit negative, and the last one a little scary even to me. So I thought I’d lighten it up a bit, because I’m in a good mood today and my mental illnesses don’t define me.

So when I was a child, I had these wild dreams. I believed that I could become anything that I wanted to be, all I needed to do was grow up a bit because kids can’t do anything. Boy, was I an idiot or what? Some of my dreams might have only lasted for a day or maybe even a few hours. For example, I think I wanted the be a fighter pilot, race car driver, gangster (needless to say I played a lot of Grand Theft Auto as a child). I wanted to be Mary Poppins for a really long time. Whenever it was windy, I would always stand up on this small wall at the back of my house, open up an umbrella and jump off and as high into the sky as I could ready to fly away. It never worked, although one time when I was little and it was ridiculously windy, I was walking to the shop or something and I jumped up a little bit and got blown back a little bit while in the air. It felt like I was flying or something, it was only for like a millisecond but that still counts. My dreams of being Mary Poppins had been dashed until that moment, the dream really seemed possible (even though I know now that there is no way that I can be her). I like to think that that moment symbolises hope, but also magic because it’s fun to believe that magic is real. Things can magically happen all the time, they usually make life better.

On that note I also really wanted to be Hermione Granger when I was a kid. While some girls want to be like some Disney princess, I wanted to be a witch who was incredibly smart and getting A’s in all her classes. Being a baby when the books came out, I grew up more on the movies. So I always thought that Hermione was really pretty, and I idolized her since I watched the first movie when I was like 4 or 5. I also wanted to be Lisa Simpson. Can you see the common theme here? I really wanted to be smart/intelligent. All I ever wanted was to be really good in school, I want to be abnormally smart where the teachers were impressed by me, like how Matilda could multiply big numbers in her head. I wanted to be Matilda too, again another smart girl.

Some of my dreams that I had for most of my childhood, and even still now, are those like wanting to be a skateboarder, a rock star, a teacher, a professional soccer player, and even, a gymnast. Most of these are very unlikely for me to ever accomplish. I have tried and failed at being a skateboarder countless times since I was 8. I don’t have the voice for rock or punk, I’m not Joan Jett or Joey Ramone. I always wanted to be a primary school teacher, because I never felt like I excelled at one particular subject enough to want to teach it for secondary school. My dream started to go away when I couldn’t keep doing honours Irish, but I had kinda grown out of that idea anyways. I have never been on a soccer team, not yet anyways, and due to this current lack of knowledge about what really being on a soccer team is like I feel like I wouldn’t be able to do it. I don’t understand the offside rule, it seems that the players are only offside when they are the team that I like and are so close to scoring. I’ve become full of aches and pains in my old age, and I’ve lost interest in being a gymnast and I hate the outfits they have to wear. I also wanted more than anything to be a baseball player, but growing up in Ireland I could never do that, so that will forever be a dream deep down that won’t go away, either way it’s fun to watch.

My most constant, most important dream, has been that I dream to be happy. My New Year’s resolutions for 2015 were 1.Be funnier and 2. Be more positive. I feel like I succeeded in the first one, and I haven’t completely failed the second one. I have been more positive this year. I have been much happier this year, but that happiness needs some work. Like all things in life, this is going to be hard work but I know that I can do it. Whether it’s interacting more with people, watching YouTube videos that make me happy, or joining a club or society while at college.
This song never fails to make me happy, I just love it because I think it’s just a good upbeat song.

Also this video is just really cute and I like watching it.

Mental Illness Take 3:Why I Won’t Go To A Doctor.

Before I get into the reasons why let me tell you what’s been going on in my broken, busted up mind. So on Wednesday, my mom’s half-uncle and his girlfriend were visiting from England. Now he hasn’t been to visit us since 2002. I wish I could say the same for his brother that comes here every year to get loads of free meals, and be pampered by family, even though every thinks he’s a stingy, cheap man and they dread the time that he comes to visit. Anyways, my mom’s half uncle was last here when I was 4, so obviously I don’t remember him. He seemed nice and so did his girlfriend(for the rest of this they will be referred to as the couple), but when they were having tea in the sitting room, I went outside instead of awkwardly standing in the room listening to their boring old conversations. So I went outside and sat with my dog for like 20 minutes. I went back inside just in time for dinner. So we sat at the table all 6 of us, my parents, brother, the couple, and, of course, myself (the dog was not invited, unfortunately). So I began picking away at the salad that was in front of me, not really my favourite of meals. About half way through it however I got this weird feeling. It was like a switch in my body got turned off. Now this switch is located in my brain, it powers feelings. So when the switch is on, the feelings are positive, or at least neutral and not negative, everything is working smooth up in the ol’ noggin’ of mine like a well-oiled machine. When this switch is switched off, the feelings become negative sort of gradually. The machine slows down and comes to a stop. The positivity has no power to when the machine isn’t on, so  from there begins the onslaught of negative feelings. Negativity needs no power whatsoever to infiltrate your thoughts. That’s kind of how it felt like, on that particular day. Once it looked like everyone had finished eating and my dad had left the table, I went straight up to my room. I closed the door behind me and lied down on my bed with a teddy bear (laugh all you want, it’s comforting as fuck. At least you can hug them, imaginary friends aren’t huggable. Not that I actually had any imaginary friends, I always found them really difficult to imagine even when I felt super lonely). I went on my phone and watched a video or two on YouTube. Not necessarily funny videos, just catching up on what was in my subscription box. I mostly did this as a distraction. Next thing I did was text my friend, because I hadn’t talked to her in a while and we said we’d go to the cinema when a movie we both wanted to see was out. So I brought that up again because the movie is almost out. I didn’t get a text for a while. It didn’t worry me because I sent a text to my dad the night before and it didn’t get to him for like 2 hours, and my phone is just annoying and I hate it. So I would periodically check my phone for the next couple of hours. I only went back down stairs after about a half an hour because the couple appeared to be leaving, but I went back up stairs after they went outside the door. When I did receive a text it was a positive answer, and while I didn’t reply straight away I had to confirm with my dad that it was okay that I went out on the day my friend suggested.

As the night progressed, I got a lot worse. First off my mom threatened to not let me go out for a meal with my friends. She told me “You can’t just order rice, order a proper meal or you’re not going.” While I know I couldn’t really do that, it’s not like I wanted to be the one to spoil everyone’s excitement by saying that I really wouldn’t like Thai. I wouldn’t want them to go changing the restaurant we’re going to on my account. Either way I’ve decided that I’ll order some okay looking chicken dish, and pick at it and it’s not like I have to eat it or anything, just so long as I pay my fair share of the meal. Possibly pay more as an apology for my lack of co-operation towards trying Thai food. I’m sorry that I’m a picky eater, I hate most type of sauces and vegetables, both seem to play a  big part in Thai dishes. It’s not like the meal is the most important thing,  it’s the fact that that will probably be our last time together as a full group before we all start our college courses or plc’s in a couple of weeks. So after my mom finally left the room after I picked something proper off the menu on the restaurants website, I decided to watch a DVD. I’ve had ‘Cabaret’ now for a good couple of weeks, and thought I should get around to watching it. I hadn’t much of an idea what it was about apart from Liza Minelli being in it as a cabaret singer. It was kind of a weird movie and I only made it through about half of it before my laptop shut down for no good reason. I made no attempt to try watching the rest of the movie as I had become too distracted early on in the film. I was having these horrible,depressed feelings, I put my head in my hands and began to slowly rock back in forth wanting to get these emotions out of my head. I had also the same teddy bear from early on in the day in my arms before this too. Earlier in the day I had taken out my drumsticks and hit my legs with them for a while. I usually do this because I don’t have drums and I just drum along to songs by hitting my legs. This time I had done it with the intention of hurting myself, even though I had never used drumsticks for anything other than playing along to music (not well I might add). Obviously, it didn’t work. It’s never really been something that hurts, as I usually hit like my shins or my knees. No matter how I had I hit my leg with a drumstick it wouldn’t do much. So while I was watching the movie, and my head was filled with dark feelings and after rocking back and forth for a few minutes, I got the drumsticks out again. I held them in my hands and lightly drummed on my head, about as much as the part in the ‘Little Drummer Boy’ the “pa-rum-pum-pum,pum” bit. It wasn’t a lot anyways. I couldn’t take it anymore, now this was at like 2 or 3am, I got down my rubber band ball and I took a rubber band off it. I put it around my wrist and really thought about it first. I thought on one hand “Do I really want to do this again? Is it worth it?” and on the other hand “You are a weak human being, if you can even call yourself that, go on do it I dare ya.” I even went as far as pulling the rubber band back and ready to launch it at my arm, but then I thought about a conversation I had over a month ago. It was when I posted the first of these Mental Illness blog posts.  I remember my friend telling me all these nice things about me, saying that she was there for me and all other stuff along those lines. However, this half memory wasn’t going to be enough to stop me. So I thought, “maybe if I see the actual conversation, I might stop and change my mind.” So I went on to Facebook and waited for the old messages to load for what felt like ages as I somehow managed to not pull the rubber band back and hurt myself. I was determined to fight it, I needed to fight it. I’m not a kid anymore I can’t take the easy option by becoming completely taken over by these negative feelings. Once the conversation finally loaded, I looked for the part I could remember. I was right. Reading those messages actually helped.  I remember how happy I was at the time this conversation took place, and how I was like that monkey emoji that covers it’s eyes because she was saying really nice things, and my only way to react to any sort of compliment is to cover my face. I don’t know why, but I think it comes from the child mentality that if I can’t see you, you can’t see me.

Around that same time of the early blog posts, I got other people sending me messages, but I never went into a proper conversation with most of them. This one in particular though, we both send equally long messages and each message having about 4 or 5 parts. Like one about the blog, one about something funny, each part was kind of separate and nothing felt forced. For the first time in a long time, I had like a normal conversation. I would respond relatively quickly, and I was being kind of funny, I like to think so anyways I felt like I was on a roll.  The reason why I didn’t contact this friend and actually ask for help, was because it was freaking 3 in the morning. Also, I had nothing to say. This was brought on by nothing. There wasn’t a reason why I felt depressed.

So now, to link back to the title, this is why I won’t go to a doctor. What the fuck am I supposed to say when things like this happen? Nothing caused this to happen, it just naturally occurred. This is why no one ever took my “illness” seriously as a kid. “If you don’t have a reason, then nothing happened,” that’s what I always heard. Not that any of us knew as kids that mental illness was a thing, but either way when I told people the way, it felt wasn’t important to them. I have a wild imagination they’d say; this is just another story of fiction. Yeah because you know what I love doing in my free time, making up really sad stories of things that never happened so fun. I’ve never had a great imagination, and I suck at writing fiction. I am an honest, real, writer that can only really write about things that happen to me(sometimes being a bit too honest, but the last thing I want is to lie about this stuff). Which I do see as a positive. I mean if none of my past ever happened to me, who’s to say I would still be a writer? Inspiration can be found in the darkest of places, motivation can be found when you see the light.

Secondary School: Failings,The Bad Memories And A Small Rant About “Shifting”

Now that it’s officially over for me, I thought I would share some of the stupid things and embarrassing things I did throughout my secondary school years. For the first 3 years of secondary, I was still a child, nay I was still a baby. I’m sure most of you don’t remember me in those years, and to be honest I probably don’t remember anyone that wasn’t in my class. The smallest little things upset me. Everyone in my primary always said I was dating my guy friend. When I was in my friends’ classroom one day in 1st year, a girl who had gone to my primary school brought it up for no reason. She found it funny, I told her to shut up, and then I proceeded to throw a whiteboard duster near her. Not at her, because I didn’t want to hurt anyone I just wanted to be left alone. So I threw it at the wall and it made a loud thud. This was about a couple of months or maybe a year after the infamous Paul Galvin duster throwing incident that led to a boy getting stitches. I didn’t want anyone to tell a teacher because I didn’t want to get in trouble, and I don’t think anyone ever did tell a teacher. However, my best friend, at the time, had just walked into the room when I threw it and she yelled at me so much that I ran out of the room crying. It was worse than any teacher giving out to me, because at least it was normal to be scared of teachers, not of friends. Well I know I deserved that, like I did do something bad.

On Valentines Day in 1st year, my mom had bought this heart shaped chocolate brownie cake from Marks and Spencers. I decided to tell everyone that my Spanish boyfriend had sent it over, because in 6th class I had a crush on a Spanish boy (as well as like 3 other boys). He was only in our class for one year, but I had a crush on him immediately. Anyways people were all crowding around me from my class being like “Really? What’s he like? Is he cute?” I panicked and told everyone straight away that I was kidding that I didn’t have a Spanish boyfriend (or any boyfriend for that matter). Then they kept bringing it up for the next couple of months. I hated art, which is why I never kept it on past 1st year. I wasn’t any good at it. I really didn’t like the teacher, but she ignored me for the most part thankfully. On one of the first days, when we had to sketch what was in front of us, and the girl next to me said that my drawing was good. I literally snapped at her and said “You’re just saying that because you feel like you have to because of how bad it actually is, it’s actually horrible. You’re lying about it.” I turned away and she did not know how to respond to that, but who would really. I loved music, I wish I could’ve kept it up past 1st year. I found it so easy back then and I even got an A1 in the summer test. I know that music wasn’t as easy a subject after 1st year, but I’d say I would’ve been better at that then I was at science.

Home Economics is the only subject that cause me to cry just as much as English, the only difference being with Home Ec. I cried in school and everyone saw me. 1st year wasn’t too bad for that subject seeing as it was only a double once a week, that we only had to do for half the school year while the other half of the class did computers. Over the course of 2nd year, I hurt my hands a lot doing the subject. I kept pricking myself when I was sewing, I couldn’t sew very well. I burnt my small parts of my hands and wrists (it was an accident every time). While I was practising for my practical, I kept cutting my fingers when trying to cut off the core of the apples for the crumble I was making (again totally accidental). I was making a vegetable soup and an apple & raspberry crumble. It meant I didn’t have to worry about handling meat or eggs, which I felt would’ve lost me loads of marks, because I was kind of careless when it came to cooking/baking. I made plenty of mistakes and I could never get all my cooking and washing up done during the time we had for the double, so I had to keep going back at lunch times to finish cleaning up. Don’t think for a second that mistakes went unnoticed. I get yelled at for everything, and without fail I would cry every time. I would be so angry with myself and in my mind I would be saying “You’re such an idiot. Why would you even do that? Stop crying you look stupid.” I always looked forward to double theory, not because I really like theory but it meant we weren’t cooking. I also did really like my teacher at the end of the day, even though I was scared of her. I had her for religion in 1st year and I loved religion. Then in 2nd year I got, the main religion teacher(aka she teaches it at leaving cert level). I was afraid of her. Before I had her, I remember I was in my 1st year room beside the library, and I had Galaxy Minstrels in my lunch, and when I saw her coming in I hid them under my lunchbox because being new to the school I didn’t know if there was certain restrictions against sweets and stuff like that. She saw me hiding them, so she picked up the packet and says to me “What? Do you think I’m going to confiscate them?Hmm?” and then she proceeds to take one of the minstrels, and she sort of smiles at me. I was kinda just freaked out, cause she was meant to be this really strict, teacher that struck fear into the eyes of her victims. Yet in that moment she seemed like a normal human. I was just as scared of her when I had her and it was for 2nd year only because she went off on maternity leave in 3rd year and left us with the most horrible substitute ever (except maybe some of those sub English teachers over the past couple of years that I never had.) When she left in 3rd year, I started to hate religion because of the sub. Not only as a subject but also my “faith” which being in the adolescent stage and questioning God and his is motives, was in a rocky place at that time anyways. I also think when my teacher came back from her maternity leave, she had kinda of chilled out a bit, like she seemed like a completely different person. She was way nicer to us, but that could’ve been just because we weren’t juniors anymore, because all the teachers seem to have this hatred towards the juniors.

I know loads random things from studying subjects I didn’t like for so long. Like the statue of the two deers in town, I described it to my friend as “2 stags in competition for a mate.” This isn’t always bad, what’s bad is when no one gets it, like a Physics reference or a reference to something a teacher said during a class that not everybody I’d be friends with would have been in. I’m fairly good at referencing things, be it a subject or something from TV or movies. However, I learned that I can’t really make puns and it’s really disappointing. Like I’m genuinely upset about this realization. I was so glad going into 5th year because I got to drop subjects I really didn’t care about, mostly due to my hatred towards the teacher. Like geography,history, exam religion, and business studies. That doesn’t mean I loved the subjects I did keep on. I enjoyed the sciences in 5th year, but in 6th year the only subjects I liked were English, and pass Irish. From 1st to 3rd year, there was this girl in our school who had 2 girls, her posse, following her around all the time. I had to deal with them in primary school and thank God they moved away after 3rd year (or was it 2nd year). The main one, was always dancing around the place, often dancing in front of or around people to block their path. Her posse would film nearly all her dances. Of course, they had to film her dancing around me when I was just trying to get books from my locker so I could leave and go home. I never liked any of them, they always used to laugh at me throughout the years. Also they were around every fucking corner. Wherever I went, they were always there. It felt like they were following me. (None of this helped the whole paranoia problem I have, but I swear to God they were always laughing at me.) None of these memories seem that bad I guess, but I’ve tried really hard to block out as much of the first 3 years of secondary school as I possibly can and I think I’ve done a good job. I have fallen off my bike a couple of times cycling home from school in those years. Of course it was before I started to stay around after school, so everyone could see. The worst and probably most painful time this happened, I was going from the road onto the footpath but I went on it a little sideways as opposed to having the wheel pointed straight at the curb so I feel really hard onto the concrete. Also, my school bag was usually really heavy, and when I fell that time it nearly would’ve broke my neck I had flown forward off the bike instead of just dropping on my side. I was going kind of fast and there was people on the footpath so I tried to slow down, but I didn’t slow down by much. When I did fall, all the people waiting for the buses saw me, and this large group of boys(obviously) laughed at me so much. They didn’t give a shit if I was okay, they just taught it was hilarious. I’ve always found videos of people falling over kind of hard to laugh at especially since that experience. I can only laugh if I know that they are doing it on purpose.

You might notice that I focused on the first 3 years, that was mostly because the worst things happened back then and things have been mostly looking up since then. I still do little things that are super embarrassing but that’s something I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of, unfortunately. I hope some of these early memories don’t make you see me any differently. Even though you wouldn’t believe it, I used to be an immature,annoying kid. (Because I’m sooooo not like that now.) Also, for those of you who might say something about me liking so many boys in primary school, it doesn’t make me any less gay (or whatever I identify as, I’m still know but that’s okay). Yes I did genuinely like them, it wasn’t forced on me. I was always told I went for the “uglier” boys, but I just liked the ones who weren’t mean to me (which wasn’t a lot) or else ones who didn’t know I existed(which was a lot). Also personality plays a big part on how much I like someone. I’ve liked girls who I think are like goddesses, I just can’t fathom that a real person could be that beautiful. Yet, when I mentioned to a friend these people she noticed that none of them were the typical choices that they guys would go for, they weren’t the “obvious” beauties, but their personality is what I clung onto. Also for someone who can’t handle any bit of eye contact whatsoever, my favourite feature about a person usually is there eyes. I don’t think I have any particular physical preferences in a girl. I mean I would probably be more impartial to someone either with blonde hair or else dark brown hair like me. I love dark brown eyes, or at least I think I do from the photos of celebrities I would look at when I was a pre-teen like Selena Gomez (I had a huge crush on her back then). Other than that there isn’t anything else really. What else do people usually look for in a girl? The size of their boobs and their butt? Because neither of those things make a difference to how attractive someone is, or at least they don’t to me. Well I think that butts are weird anyway and I hate them. I hate any songs that reference them too like ‘Anaconda’ by Nicki Minaj. I know that we’d all look weird without them, but can’t you let me pretend like they don’t exist. Could there be a little less about butts in pop culture and a little more of literally anything else? It’s also one of the reason why “meeting” or “shifting” grosses me out so much. What I learned from the few times I saw people shifting is that the girl puts her arms around the guys neck, which is standard, however the guy puts his hands on the girl’s butt. Like how are those things equal? Why do girls let guys, who sometimes they have only just met, touch their butts? The kissing itself never really grossed me out it was just the butt touching part.(Even though I do find most, not all, kissing between a boy and a girl to be gross. I’m not just saying that because I’m gay, or whatever, but a lot of the time it just doesn’t look right) I do have a big problem with this whole kissing complete strangers thing. It’s what people my age and younger seem to enjoy doing, so to each their own. You can do what you want, life your life the way you want to, I mean no disrespect or judgement. I just don’t like it personally.

Results and College: I Don’t Know What’s Happening.

So I got my results on Wednesday. I was really nervous during the days leading up to it, and especially the morning of it. I couldn’t have breakfast (what’s new there, I’ve gotten bad with it again. I really need to start having that again). I just had some coffee because I was sick with nerves. When I get there I see Mae and she had just got her results and she was ecstatic, she got the grade that she really wanted in her favourite subject and she assured me that I would be fine. My mom was like the only parent in the building, all the other students were in there by themselves. I was glad when the DCG teacher said that she could wait outside near the office. The entire 5 years of secondary school, I was never the first person to see my results. My mom would always open the report first and then show it to me after. She would ask me why did I get such a low grade in certain subjects. I was happy that I finally got to see my grades for the exams that I did, that I cried over, that I worked for, before she could see them and judge what I got. I went into the room myself. The principal was in there, and there was brown envelopes covering the boardroom table. She handed me the envelope and said I could open it in the room or just take it and leave. Obviously, I chose to open it in the room. My immediate thoughts after seeing the first couple of grades (the 3 core subjects grades) was “Oh my God, I’m really fucking smart”. They were all B’s I felt so proud, except for the fact that 2 out of the 3 were pass subjects. I was so excited though when I saw that I had got a B in English, that was all I wanted seeing as I dedicated soooooooooo much time to it. The last 4 years have been filled with long nights of crying over English homework, it could be because I felt a little scared of my English teacher that I’ve had since 2nd year. I’ve always found her intimidating, but she knew a lot, she actually seemed to like teaching even if she often told us that she couldn’t wait to retire especially after having us whinging at everything, she said she never had a year like us which wasn’t a good thing but I know she loved having us . I always wanted to impress her, but I’ve only seemed to really excel at English this year. I’ve always liked it, but I used to be really bad at it. I will miss my English teacher though.

While the rest of my grades that I got in my Leaving Cert weren’t great (2 D3’s, a D1, and a C3) I had what I needed when my principal told me that I had 325 points, as of last year’s points my course is 300 so here’s praying it stays that way or doesn’t increase by much. I thought that I did amazing, I was so happy with that like I got the points and I have the requirement of 2 higher level C3’s or above and 4 ordinary/higher level D3’s or above. While I was waiting to go in my friend had just gotten her exam and waited outside with my mom until I got my results. So when I came out of the room, I feel like I was telling her what I got as opposed to mom.  I said what I got really quickly because I couldn’t believe that I passed all my subjects let alone got the points that I did. So my friend was so excited for me and she gave a hug and I was so so so happy.  Then I asked what my friend got and she got WAY better than I did. It didn’t make me feel like ashamed of what I got, that happened later on in the day.  I was delighted for her, like she has her course no problem and her grades were freakin’ amazing, but no surprises there, that girl is just insanely smart. I was glad she was there though, it was the best thing having someone there that was excited for me and knew how much I was worried for the exams.

When we got outside the front gate of the school, I started to talk to some of the other girls that were around the place while me mom called my dad to inform him of what I got. Now when my mom told him, my dad thought she said that I had gotten 335 points, so when I took the phone and he heard me say the proper number he seemed slightly unimpressed. Is everything that I do wrong? I’m sorry that I didn’t 490 points like your darling boy who is going on to do his final year project in Energy that will lead onto a PhD. Why must everyone make me doubt everything I do? That’s when things started to go downhill.  We went to where my mom works and she told some of the people there what I got, they weren’t too dismissive of it, they could see I was happy with it and they said congratulations and gave me a free coke. It was anyone else that my mom told, seemed completely unimpressed and looked at me as if I was the most idiotic, buffoon that they’d ever come across.  By the time we got home and when my mom called other people to tell what I got, she would stick only with the good things like the B in English and I had gotten enough for my course. I was glad she finally decided to start doing that, no one needed to know how many D’s I got (that’s a private matter, the only people that need to that are me and my gynaecologist). So when I got home I heard what some of my other friends got, I was so happy to hear that they had done so well. It was also comforting to know that someone got the same Chemistry grade that I did.  I know that this post and my last one are about how my parents haven’t been happy with me, and stuff that I’m doing. (Can you see why I don’t to come out to them right now?) Everyone gets annoyed with their parents every now and again. I think it’s part of being a teenager that I have my disagreements with them.

Everyone was going out to celebrate their results. While I felt like I had something to celebrate that morning, by the afternoon I felt like I didn’t. Also I had enough after being out at the Debs on the Monday, a great night but social events are very mentally draining for me.  So I had told a couple of people that I wasn’t going out at all. Then at around half 3 I got a text from my friend who had been there when I got my results, saying did I want to go around town with her until she was meeting up with people to go to Puck Fair for a good night out. Of course I said yes. I had a great time walking around town with her and we talked about lots of stuff because other than the Debs we hadn’t really talked all summer so we had loads to catch up on. It felt like we were only talking for like 10 minutes and I didn’t even notice how much we had walked until I was walking home with my dad and my legs were aching. It was something that simple that got rid of my feelings of self-doubt and somewhat forced disappointment of my results, and made me cheerful again.

So with the fact that points for courses can change every year and there is no way of knowing by how much they’ll change by, I’m still not certain if I’ll get into college. I will know at around 6am Monday morning. I don’t plan on going to sleep. I want to stay awake until I find out my fate. I used to think that going to an Institute of Technology was a bad thing, and that I should be going to a big name college, but I’m kinda okay with the idea now. Something I have been thinking about though is that college starts really soon. Everyone will be gone in a matter of weeks. It’s going to be weird to be in a school environment without all my friends there. I can’t wait to find out how there first few days at college goes, I hope that they really like their course, make lots of new friends, and have great nights out having the true college experience. I’m pretty sure that my college doesn’t have a ‘Freshers Week’ so I guess that could be something that I’m missing out on, and I’ve heard that there supposed to be fun.

In relation to my course, I don’t understand how there wasn’t a certain grade that I needed to get in English. I didn’t even need to pass it as long as I had passed Irish and Maths. One of the modules that I have to do in 2nd year is called ‘Ideas,Representation and Society’ and it consists of me analysing plays like the work of Shakespeare,Beckett, Oscar Wilde. Like I’m pretty sure that someone needs to have at least an adequate skill at English to do things like that. Also all my elective options have the option of doing an Irish module. So basically it forces someone like me to pick the only other elective option. For semester 3 I get 2 other options besides the Irish one,Stopmotion Animation and Media Graphics, whereas in all the other semester there is only 1 other option that I will have to do. So I will have to do 2D Animation in semester 4,Radio Studio Operations in semester 5, Video Motion Graphics in semester 7, and Special Event Management in semester 8. These are only the electives I have other mandatory modules as well. Now these might all sound interesting, and I’m sure they are, but I don’t see the point of having them included as elective when I’m sure the majority of people will be veering away from the Irish option. Also some of my first year modules have loads of projects. For Film and Narrative Studies, I need to create a short film (about 5-7 minutes) based on a classical piece of music provided, and I also have to design and script an original narrative game. I know that is in the 2 semester, but coming from secondary school when have we ever done anything even like this. If I went to school in England I could’ve been doing film and/or media studies, then maybe I would be prepared. Other than English, I have no pre-requisite knowledge for anything that their on about. While others are on the same boat as me, I’m sure that they know what they wanted to do an have taken to teaching themselves about such things in their free time. I only knew I wanted to do this course for the last couple of months. I really hope that I can manage this course alright, because it does seem really cool and more exciting than anything secondary school ever had to offer me subject wise. In a matter of hours I will find out if I got my course, the last week has been so stressful, I;m glad that all this stuff is finally ending and I’m getting answers. I’m sick and tired of waiting (I’m a really impatient person, but I really am sick I have a sore throat and I keep having to stop writing and blowing my nose).

My Mom Hates My Blogs!

My Mom has never read any of my blogs nor does she even know much about them. I’ve only brought them up recently because of my blogs being about current topics like the results and the Debs. She was not happy when I told her about the Debs one. She said that it was too personal and everyone could see it. Well if she saw how personal I’ve gotten already she would make me shut down my blog permanently. It’s not like any of my blogs are mean. I don’t mention people’s real names, but that’s because I’ve never felt right having people’s proper names in anything I write. Not that these names do much seeing as everyone pretty much knows who they are. Like I told my Mom “Oh she read this post where I told a story that involved her, and she left a really nice comment.” My Mom goes “See they know it’s them that you’re talking about in those blogs.” That’s the fucking point. The person that I mention will know that I’m writing about them because it’s usually about a memory we experienced together, so even if I don’t use their names they know this story already except this time they are hearing it from my perspective, with my emotions and feelings towards the event. Also the people who are friends with me and were also there during these times too will know who I’m talking about. Everyone else in the world doesn’t know. Anyone who reads this that doesn’t know me won’t have a clue who these people are, but are merely interested in my writing (you know that thing I want to do in college for the next 4 years). Being a blogger is actually one of my possible career outcomes. I’ve heard plenty of positive feedback from those who have read these posts, and they always urge me to write more (This is one of the reasons why I need my friends in my life, for support). They all seem to understand my way of thinking, they all get that this is really helpful for my mental state, and they know that I just don’t want to forget some of the best memories of my life. (I wouldn’t forget them, but just in case I like having an account of them.) I always wanted to write a diary, but I could never do it. It always felt like there was so much pressure to write into it every single day (aka everyday for me ’cause I’ve always been single), and even when I did have something to write about I wouldn’t really go into as much detail as I have been doing with these blog posts. Also if I wrote a diary my Mom could easily see it. Actually as a matter of fact, I have my first 2 blog posts written in a copybook in my room, but it was a Chemistry copy I started in like April so it looks like a normal school copy. For the couple of days that I was writing in it, I kept the copy in my pillowcase because I knew that no one would look there, and I was right too. I guess that’s just one of the things I’ve always been good at, hiding things. I hide copies, stuff that belongs to my brother, and feelings. Up until I started writing no really knew anything about me. People were calling me a Dark Horse a couple of months ago and saying “You’ve probably got all these things you’re hiding that we don’t know about.” They were right, I was hiding myself. I often thought about telling people about my problems sooner, or trying to be myself around more people by being a little more social with them. I often thought “What if people don’t like the real me?” Well it’s not as if they were very keen on the introverted, coward that never spoke to anyone and who walked the school halls with her head down most of the time. While that is part of who I am, that was more of a protective shell that kept people away. I was afraid if I showed people who I really was they’d all think I was weird or crazy. Well I’m sure they all thought I was weird anyways, but that was because I was quiet, I was easy to ignore and I never got in the way. If people really knew me and didn’t like me because of that, I would be long gone (at least if this happened during my early teenage years, where one is trying to find themselves, I know not everyone is going to like me. The last thing I wanted was to be told that any feelings I was having or anything that I found fun to do, was wrong.) When you spend a lot of time alone, you begin to think the worst. I had the right sense to know that most of the things I thought weren’t true, but it took could take a long time. It’s hard to stop thinking these things when no one is around to tell you that you’re wrong, that people love you, and to tell you all of your obvious good points. Some people are obviously funny, because they have a quick wit and they always make people laugh. Telling someone that they are something without there being any bit of evidence behindit just makes them a whole lot worse. Like if someone ever told me that I was pretty or beautiful (this never happened often but it has happened) I wouldn’t be able to listen to anything else that they’re saying, because I knew that they were just throwing out things to say in an attempt to to cheer me up whether they believe it was true or not. Which I know they meant well in those situations but it didn’t make me feel better. However some of my friends have said to me at times recently like on the day of the Grad. Mass and the day of the Debs, and I believed that they were really being sincere. I have people in my life now that really care, they support what I want to do, and they never want me to feel worthless. The fact that my Mom doesn’t want me to blog, fuels the fire and makes me want to write more. For a really long time someone telling me not to the do something, made me said and I didn’t want to get in trouble so I would obey their demands. Now, it’s a source of motivation, along with actual encouragement. Like it made me write this post, which I never planned on writing until my Mom disapproved of my writing when I brought it up at the dinner table earlier today. She hates all this kind of stuff. She finds Facebook to be uncomfortable, she doesn’t get that I can block people and fix my privacy settings. Yet she told me to put up the Debs photos I had so that everyone could see them. I try not to listen to her when it comes to the internet, I know a whole lot more about it and I spend a lot of time on it.

Birthdays!!

Ah yes the annual celebration of one’s birth (also known as the violent exile from the warmth of the womb to the cold of life). Before I start this off, it isn’t my birthday I just started thinking about birthdays in general recently. It’s around 6 months until my 18th birthday and I’ve reminded people of this at least 3 times in the last month. I just really don’t want anyone to forget this time. When I was younger I had birthday parties where I invited my friends to my house or to some indoor play area like Buddies or something. Now these parties weren’t always fun for me. When they were at my house, I always had to be the hostess which I hate and I’m terrible at. You have to make sure everyone is having a good time, are they okay and have they had enough to eat/drink.

I remember one party, I think it was my 11th birthday and I had all my friends over. So that was 6 people at my house, including my neighbour and my cousin who lives in my estate. From what I can remember, we were playing outside for a while which I have pictures of, including my friend doing a cartwheel (I still don’t know why he hasn’t become an Olympic gymnast). Then for a good portion of the day we were in my brothers room playing on the Nintendo Wii (all the major video game systems are in my brother’s room because they can’t possibly fit in my closet of a room). Everyone was busy creating their Mii’s and playing Wii sports. I looked away from the screen eventually and saw my best friend standing in the doorway of the room looking kind of sad and left out while everyone else, even those who weren’t playing the Wii, were watching the screen and following the game. Anyways, I went over to her and asked her was she alright. She said that she was fine but I obviously didn’t believe her so we left them and we both went into my room. Back then, before I got the boring desk for all my secondary school homework that I never did on the desk, I had my keyboard in my room. I think I had also taken the guitar out of my brothers room that day to give us more space in his room for video games. So my friend sat at the keyboard and tried playing it and I played the guitar and we pretended we were in band. We were laughing a lot and making a lot of racket with the instruments that everyone else came into the room and wanted to join in. My cousin took the guitar, my friend stayed at the keyboard and I was now on the tin whistle (I’ve never been good at it. I’ve never been good at wind instruments in general. Although, in 4th class I wanted to join the Gleneagle band and since I wasn’t allowed to have drums, mostly for space issues, I wanted to play the trumpet. I never did do that, and I have really bad lungs so I would’ve been a useless trumpet player). All in all that party at my house did end well and it’s the most memorable of them all.

I haven’t had any sort of birthday party or even much of a celebration since after my 12th birthday. So that’s 5 birthdays where I’ve just gone to school or, if I was lucky, relaxed at home and my mom buying the only cake I’ve ever enjoyed for my birthday (a vanilla traybake cake from Tesco, which has since been replaced by some dry crap version with Minions on it) and then my parents and my brother singing me happy birthday and waiting for me to blow out the candles. I really hate happy birthday being sung to me. As a kid, I would always block my ears, and sometimes shut my eyes, when people started singing it. I felt like it’s the only time where everyone’s full attention was on me, and they were all looking at me waiting for me to fuck up, like going to blow out the candles and accidentally lighting my hair on fire (that never actually happened in those situations surprisingly enough). Throughout secondary school, I never looked forward to my birthday. Nobody ever remembered it. I had to bring it up when it got close to the day and also on the day as well. Either that or people would see it on Facebook, and just say happy birthday because they all felt they had to (All 4 of them).It falls at an awkward time too because I’ve had pre exams on that day for the Junior and Leaving Certs. In 3rd year, it was like half way through the pre’s and I think I had Irish and Science on that day ( I got 58% in both of them,I also got that in History too. It was a week after that exam I dropped to pass Irish, because before it was sent away my teacher said I would probably get a really shit grade.) In 6th year, the pre’s were supposed to start the day after my birthday, but then closer to the time it got pushed forward a day and my pre’s commenced on my birthday with English paper 1 and Maths paper 1. Now English paper 1 was fine because I love English (even though overall I only got 57% in it in my pre). Maths paper 1 was a completely different story, because I was still doing honours, I couldn’t do it for the life of me, and I failed my maths pre.(I even failed the “easy” pre that we did in May.)

This year I probably got the most well wishes on my birthday. My friend who was in a different English class, came into see me before the exam in my exam centre just to say happy birthday. She also got me a card and a poster for the soccer team that I follow (However I didn’t get the card for like 2 weeks, and then the poster I only got like a month later I think.) I loved it though, I nearly wanted to cry when she gave me the card. It had a been so long since I had gotten a card from someone besides ones I get from my family. Before you say something like “Oh you’re just saying that because there was loads of money in it.” You would be wrong,because there was no money in it at all. Instead, there was something even better inside, it was filled funny messages and other things. Like she went a drew  my favourite character from a cartoon that I was watching at the time. I’ve draw said character multiple times, and it never looked right. She drew it for the first time and it looked amazing. Also she wrote on the front on the envelope it that my Hogwarts house (Ravenclaw!) got some house points just because it was my birthday. It was such a cute card overall, with everything else that was written in it. I think it’s better than any present I ever got (except for my eight birthday when I got a pogo stick and a Tommy Pickles teddy, but other than them it’s better than any birthday present I’ve got). I got a record breaking 10 happy birthday messages on Facebook, and there was some people who said it to me at school because they heard me talking about it.  I did get invited to my friend’s birthday party about 2 weeks later, so it was fun to go to that and celebrate her birthday.

I can’t really complain for the lack of celebrating my birthday has gotten over the past 5 years. It’s my own fault for not organising anything. It’s my fault that I have a fear of rejection and don’t like to invite people places because I’m sure they’ll say no. I also haven’t done much to celebrate my friend’s birthdays, except that I remember all of them even of people I haven’t spoken with in a while. This year since becoming closer to some friends, and making a whole bunch of new friends too, I’ve sent a lot more birthday messages to people, most being general messages but some being a little longer and more sincere. This year I actually did like this big gesture on the day of Kadance’s birthday (I’m going use some of those names I made up from my early posts, because I miss using them and It’s just easier for me to use them.)

Okay so first things first, I got invited to Kadance’s party ,which would be on the Friday before the Leaving Cert started so it was our last time we could all have a break before starting the torturous exams. We were practising for the teachers vs. students dance off, which we did a lot of in the space of the week and a half that we had for it.  For the dance she was right in front of me, so when we had stopped practising for a couple of minutes on one of the days, I asked her would she be in for the week of supervised study (her birthday being the Friday of that week, so we would be in school for it). She said that she would be in and wondered why I was asking. I told her “it means I can give you your card on your actual birthday.” She looked at me a little confused and says “Are you not coming to my party?” I was a little surprised but excited and I go “I’m invited?!!?!” I couldn’t wait. I was so happy for the rest of the day and it was first thing I told my parents when I went home that day. I was like jumping around the kitchen saying “I’m going to her party, I’m going to her party!!!!!!!” You are all going to think I’m weird for getting so excited for  a birthday party but I couldn’t help it, I hadn’t been to someones house for a party in years (2011 to be exact, I went to my friend’s little brother’s party and then a week later my friend’s party). So now that I was invited to the party, that was all I was thinking about. “Who would be there? What will I wear? Will I wear make up? How much money do I need to put in the card? I can’t remember how anything about parties works!” I got the card the weekend before, and it was mostly black and it had chalk style writing on it. So I decided I would buy actual chalk to write inside the card with. It was really childish looking but I thought it was different. I also had these cards at home in a box, some had cupcakes on it, others had sweets and so on. So inside the card I had bought, I stuck one of these cards that had marshmallows on the front. Then I bought a packet of marshmallows to actually give to her, because I thought if she sees the card she’d be like “oh I wish I had marshmallows” and then I’d be like “Well you’re lucky I thought ahead, here you go!” Now she didn’t do that but I gave her the marshmallows anyways because I’m really shit at picking out good presents. On the Thursday, I brought my ukulele to school, because seeing as I wait after school I figured that I would practice playing ‘Happy Birthday To You’ on it for a plan I was setting up for Friday morning. Supervised study that week was only on in 2 of the 4 prefab rooms, my classroom wasn’t being used, so after school I went into my room because I knew that people wouldn’t really be in there as much as the other rooms. Well I wasn’t the only one in there because Mae was in there too because she was going to bring all of her school books home. Her mom was parked outside the front of the school, and Mae had to make loads of trips in and out because she had so many books.(This is really veering away from the birthday story but you should know by now that I don’t always stay on track when I’m writing about a certain topic.) Anyways on one of her trips back from bringing books to her mom’s car, she stopped to talk to a teacher she liked and she was out there for a really long time. She came back into the prefab looking so happy after talking to him. While she was gone for so long I was practising when she came in, so I told her my whole plan for Friday, and she said if she was in early enough in the morning that she would sing while I played the ukulele. She grabbed her next lot of books and ended up leaving that bundle on the wall outside the school gate because her mom had gone to the bank or something. So she just had one more lot to bring out and asked did I want to wait outside with her. So I said I would and as we got to the gate her mom pulled up and her books were still on the wall so I got them and helped her put them into the boot of the car. I went back into the prefab and played the ukulele for another 5 minutes before trying to rush home to begin something important for my plan.

I decided that I would make cupcakes for Kadance, I ended up making about five or six. I had only come up with that idea on Wednesday night so I had barely any time to prepare myself. My mom was working Thursday night too, so I didn’t tell her what I was doing because I was worried that she would try and stop me for some reason. When she came home she was happy that I was making the cupcakes, helped me pack them up, and gave me a lighter for the candles that I was going to put on the cupcakes. So just after midnight when it was officially Friday, I made sure I was the first person to say happy birthday to her on Facebook and I tried to make it funny but also kind of sweet because I like to think that’s the kind of person I am. I’m really shit at keeping secrets though so I tried to hint a little bit that something could be happening when she gets to school in the morning I said something along the lines of “I hope you have a great day, but it’s not like anything exciting will happen in morning.” I don’t think she suspected anything because it sounded kind of casual like “oh yeah school will be boring, but afterwards it will be great.” Something I forgot earlier was while I was buying the chalk, I got these really cool coloured balloons that were supposed to light up I don’t know if they actually did. When I was buying them though I was feeling super creative and I bought loads of ribbons because I wanted to tie a bow around the packet of the balloons so she would have something to open. I didn’t want to wrap it in case she thought it was actually going to be a really cool present and then get disappointed when she saw it was just balloons. So I got up on Friday morning at about 6am probably because I was too worried about being late that I had to make sure I left in time especially since I had to walk to school in order to carefully get the cupcakes to school. When I got there at around 8:15am, there was no one else around, thankfully. So I put my bags down at my desk, got the cupcakes out of the container I brought them in, and put them on her desk and stuck the candles into each of the cupcakes. I didn’t light them because I hate being around fire or any open flames, like I was never able to light the bunsen burners in the science lab because I was too scared of using matches. (Don’t ask me why I thought of this idea knowing that it involved having to light candles.) So I sat at her place with my ukulele in my hand and I had the lighter on the desk next to the cupcakes. I sat in her place so that I could look out the window to see if she was coming because I had no one to help look out for me. So I had to do it myself. There was a few times where I thought she was there but it was just other students going into the main building. When I did see someone walking toward the prefab I began to panic because I was like “Is that her? I think it’s her. Shit, she’s at the door hurry up and light the fucking candles.”  I was still lighting them when she came in (nearly burning myself in the process) and then I awkwardly played happy birthday on the ukulele, with no one there to sing it. I like to think that she was surprised, but in a good way. She gave me a hug and I don’t think she could really believe that I had done all that I’m sure she thought it was kind of weird. She blew out the candles and as some of our other friends walked in she told them what I did and she shared some of the cupcakes with people.  To be fair, these weren’t my best cupcakes, but I’m not good at cooking or baking under pressure, I cried a lot practising for my Home Ec. Practical which I barely made it through the real thing alive.

I felt really good about doing something special for her birthday. Making someone smile is always the best feeling in the world, but making someone smile on their birthday is like way better. I didn’t mean to go on a whole long spiel about my birthday gesture but I wanted to remember that I did that, because I never did anything like that before for anyone ever. Also, I always think it’s interesting for people to hear a back-story to things like this and I think that this one was rather interesting (even if it was extremely long winded).

Debs 2015 In Review

Well I actually got the go to my Debs. It was last minute and I was lucky that my friend had a spare ticket which I only found out very last minute. I went down to the Sem to take pictures and try to find a way to go to the Debs. I was told that I couldn’t from someone who was organising the event, so the first few friends I met I told them that I couldn’t go. I was really disappointed and kind of angry but I knew it was my own fault I should have gotten the ticket at the same time as everyone else. I had gone there though with the determination to get on that bus go to my Debs. Everyone there had such amazing dresses. All my friends looked soooo beautiful. I probably seemed really insincere in how I complimented people because someone would say “oh your dress is lovely” and I’d be like “so is yours,it looks great.” I meant what I said, I thought they all looked stunning (not that I don’t think that everyday. It’s just people really do a lot for they’re Debs so if I went like “you look great, but you do all the time,” it might make them feel like their effort was pointless. It’s like telling someone that make-up doesn’t make a difference, people can take that the wrong way. They all looked especially beautiful last night though) I was nervous to even show up at the school. Sure I was wearing a dress, heels, and I tried to do something different with my hair (don’t know how well that last one worked out). When I got there everyone seemed so happy to see me. Like really happy, like just as happy as I was to see them. I hadn’t seen some of them since the exams ended and I was so excited to see them again. Don’t get me wrong I was just as excited to see the people I had seen since the exams ended.

I tried to keep my expectations low, because if I get too excited about things I’m always disappointed. So my night didn’t start off great seeing as the bus I was on left way later than the other buses because a guy got sick. Luckily I was with my friend who had the spare ticket, we had time to catch up. When we finally arrived, all our friends were at a table that was completely full so we couldn’t sit next to any of them (I don’t blame them or anything for not saving seats, like there was a lot of people there.) So we ended up sitting by this guy that my friend spent the whole night with after the meal, which was fine because my other friends were around the place that I hadn’t seen in so long. The meal was alright. I don’t think it’s as bad as people are saying it is. It’s not like I ate much of it anyways, I don’t like eating in front of people so my anxiety was really bad during the meal. For starters we had a vegetable soup with a roll. I liked it and I did actually want to have but again the anxiety.For main course, I had the chicken option, I’m just used to having chicken so I said that out of habit, I probably would’ve had the roast beef. The chicken itself was fine, but the stuffing was vile and I hated it. So I had only a little bit of chicken, and I didn’t have the vegetables or potatoes because I would’ve been sick otherwise. So the desert was a “rich” chocolate cake. I had the smallest of small bit as I could because the last thing I wanted was to have chocolate all over my face. My friend wasn’t happy with that so she got my desert spoon and broke off a big part of the cake and held it up to my mouth and was like “will you eat that” and I said no. So she went and got an equally big piece of my cake and when I refused it yet again she went and mashed up the cake and mixed it with cream and it looked horrible. I told her that the people coming around to collect this are going to think I’m really messy so she destroyed her cake too so that we’d both have messed up desserts.

So after the meal I went and sat with my friends who were all together at the full table because some of the people left that table after the meal. I was there for a while talking with some of the girls, and I watched a lot of them take to the dance floor while I stayed sitting down because most of the songs were pretty shit. There was one or two songs near the start that I liked but there was barely anyone out on the dance floor so I definitely wasn’t going out there. I went to go with my friend to the bathroom, not that I needed to go but I wanted to hear how she was getting on with the guy she was with. When I came back to the table I was sitting at, my friend who hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to much yet so I was happy to see him. Not long after I got there his friend who I never met before sat next to us. She was really nice and then another of their friends came over, he was cool too, and we all went onto the dance floor. I wasn’t really that into the songs that were on, so the girl kept taking my hand and twirling me around in an attempt to get into the whole dancing thing. It didn’t really worked, it was still a while before I got into it. I went onto the dance when I saw a few of my friends up near the top and my friend twirled me around too. I pretended to look annoyed and rolled my eyes but sometimes I do that without thinking when I actually mean to smile or laugh. Then when ‘Galway Girl’ came on I kept getting my other friend to twirl me around because it suited the song and I actually danced to that song. I also danced to the macarena with a few of them. Later on I wanted to run onto the floor when I heard Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ came on because I’ve loved that song since I was a kid, I remember being a back up dancer for my friend to that song when I was like 10 at her house. Also I found it easy to dance to and I knew all the words to the song. Also with Kelly Clarkson’s ‘My Life would Suck Without You’, the last song that I danced to, I fucking screamed the lyrics and I danced with my friend. When the DJ was finished, I was sitting at the table with a few of my friends and one of them might have been a “little” drunk. (I’m sometimes really bad at telling if someone is drunk or just really happy, but I think that she was drunk). She started shouting, sorry I mean singing, Taylor Swift song lyrics like ‘Bad Blood’ and I don’t know why but I found it really funny but also really her. After sitting behind her in our home class for the last year I’ve heard a lot of songs sung by her, they usually weren’t so loud though, I was really nervous to be around my friends when they were drinking because I’ve seen alcohol change people and because of her being so herself after a few drinks, I felt a lot better about the whole thing. I had a great night overall. It was my first night out ever, well apart from the 2 ‘No Name’ Discos in 1st year. I felt tired for a while even though I had only been sitting down for most of the time. When I was on the dance floor at the time where I was more comfortable, I thought I was going to faint. Not because I was dancing but because there was a lot of people, and I felt a little claustrophobic and my anxiety was at me again. I thought that I was going to fall to the floor, I felt really dizzy but yet I stayed out there and I stayed standing, so I think that was a major success. I’m really glad that I went, and I know that other people were too because they kept telling me over and over again. I felt really and truly happy at certain points of the night, and it’s something I haven’t strongly felt in a long time.

Leaving Cert Results And The Debs.

It’s just over a week now until I get my Leaving Cert results back. I’ve never been this anxious and scared about getting results back in my life. It’s not like I can do anything about the results, the exams are over and I can’t change how I did. I’m going to my uncle’s anniversary mass on Thursday (The date he actually died was July 26th but this was the closest mass my Nan could get. He’s been dead 25 years this year). We always go up to my Nan’s house after for tea, and all the kids play outside. It’s kind of an annual family reunion of sorts. So I can imagine them all asking me about the day the results come out, telling me it’ll be fine and letting me know it wouldn’t be a bad thing to repeat. Which I have to agree with, repeating isn’t the end of the world. My cousin repeated and she got her course,Physics and Maths in UL. She graduated this time last year, and now she is working for a place that fits the field that she studied in, and they are paying for her to do her masters.My Nan thinks that I would benefit from repeating just like my cousin did. She could be right, but the thought of having to go back that school while my other friends are off having a new adventure, I’ll be stuck doing the same shit I spent all this year doing.Most of my family are amazing academically and some have great jobs. My brother, my cousin and my uncle have all gone/are going to college in UL. While I never had a great interest to go there, I would like to be going to a big name college. Sure there are plenty of successful people who have studied at IT’s, yet why is their degree viewed as less prestigious than that of the bigger colleges. I’m not even moving out my house. Most other people are moving out, going to live in these big cities. It might seem scary, but at least it’s something new and exciting. I am excited about my course because it seems really cool and I think I could love it, but I don’t want to have to wait another year for it.

I wish I was going to the Debs for the simple reason that I would have something to look forward to next week. It would also have been a good distraction throughout the summer, picking out a dress and all that rite of passage stuff that most girls seem to look forward to. I was looking forward to my Debs since my brother went to his in 2012. He didn’t ask anyone to go with him, but he was with loads of his friends and their dates who were a part of their friend group too. My Mom and I went with him to the Sem beforehand because that was where they were all meeting up to get on the buses to go off to Tralee ( like they all are this year for my Debs too). There was such a good atmosphere around, the boys all looked dapper and handsome in their suits, and all the girls looked sooooo beautiful in their dresses. I was looking at their dresses trying to get inspiration for my Debs dress. I’ve been thinking about my Debs for 3 years. The reason that I decided not to go and buy myself a ticket was because, at the time the deposits had to be in, I thought that if I did go that I would be sitting by myself in the corner of the room while every else had a great time with their dates, and in their friend groups. I was in a bad place around that time, I felt so alone, I reckoned that no would want me there, so I did them all a favour and decided not to go. Now with just a week to go before the Debs, I do wish that I had bought a ticket, but it was probably for the best that I didn’t. I hate dancing in front of people, I hate eating in front of people, and most importantly I hate people (Just kidding, I just don’t like a lot of people from the other two schools). I know for a fact that all my friends are going to look so beautiful and I can’t wait to see pictures. I’ll be at home on Monday night and Tuesday keeping an eye on Facebook and Snapchat, to see them having the best night ever. I’m actually looking forward to it (kinda). I don’t really know if I can really keep referring to it as my Debs seeing as I’m not going, but who cares.

To keep my mind off thinking about the results and the Debs, I’m going to see ‘Inside Out’ in the cinema alone tomorrow. I’m going alone because I’ve never been good at inviting people anywhere. So I decided that I would save myself the embarrassment of going around asking all my friends to go with me and just being rejected. It’s not like I haven’t done this before. The first time I went to the cinema by myself, like without my Mom or my old friends, was in February last year (2014). It was really close to my birthday, my sweet 16, so I decided that I would go see ‘Frozen’ because I hadn’t seen it yet and it was still in the cinema. Admittedly, it was lonely going to see the movie by myself. I looked to be the only teenager in there too, everyone else there was just kids with their parents. I just hope that my 18th birthday won’t be so lonely. No one knows what could happen in 6 months, life is strange that way. One minute everything’s going your way, the next minute BAM you’re hiding in a blanket fort, trying your best to shut out the world, the only way you knew how to as a kid.