One Sunday Morning

I just thought I'd share this story with you all.

A few weeks ago, one sunny Sunday morning, I happened upon a religious nut in the street handing out leaflets about how we're all doomed to hell. I find this kind of thing highly annoying but for some reason I stopped to listen to him.

He was more entertaining than the usual ones I see. He was shouting and gesticulating wildly like a madman, and generally putting on a show. I was slightly puzzled when he got to his bit about people not keeping holy the sabbath day, so I asked him why he wasn't at mass. He replied by shouting "Oh, Christ!!!" and running off at full speed toward the nearest church, dropping his leaflets as he went.

The Two Most Important Words In The English Language

"Session" and "on." Enough said.

Bringing Sexy Back

If I could ask Justin Timberlake one question, it would be this: Sexy never went anywhere. Why do you need to bring it back? If I had another question I'd ask who'd ordained him the man to do this. I admit he's sexy, a concept I couldn't have understood if sexy was gone anywhere as he would have us beleive, but I just don't see how he's ATTRACTIVE.

I'm not sure what it is about Justin that gets on my nerves so much. I think it must be the image he tries to put forth. First of all the way he appears physically. He's immaculately dressed in these pristine and perfect clothes, yet he also tries to look scruffy by allowing that little growth of bumfluff stubble to take hold of his face. It just makes him look like he can't figure out what he wants to be.

Another thing he can't figure out is how to use an iPod. This is a supremely simple task that even an infant could manage. Yet he manages to balls it up. Worse still, he's proud of the fact that he finds it too confusing to use. He thinks it's cool to be completely technologically inept. That viewpoint more than any other sums up nicely why I find him so repulsive.

He's stupid and is proud of it. I don't mind people being happy with who they are, but showing off your worst traits because you think they're your best isn't the right way to go about things. Indecision and careless stupidity aren't cool, and Justin shouldn't perpetuate some kind of self-concocted myth that they are.

So by all means, be sexy, be happy with yourself, but don't be an arse.

Early Morning Reasoning

Isn't there some way we could fix a big rope to the ground, send a rocket dragging this in its wake to the moon, tie the rope around the moon and use this for various things. It could be handy if you wanted to control the tides, cause an eclipse, destroy the world (most likely), or even as a mode of transporting people to the moon. If you used two ropes you could quite easily build a bridge. Or so I imagine...

Always Get Drunk At The Debs

For those of you that don't know, be you American or otherwise, the Debs is pretty much the prom. Same thing. Formal evening with dancing and drinking. Well I don't know if there's drinking at the prom, but there is at the debs. And lots of it.

Now before I give any impression otherwise, I had a fantastic time at my debs. My date was both gorgeous and a deadly laugh, as she always is. But unfortunately I had, and still have, a big thing for her, which she didn't and still doesn't know.

I told myself before the debs that I wouldn't drink anything alcoholic. That went out the window after about an hour, when I started nicely with a double vodka. I continued from there, but, rather surprisingly given that I'd never drank before in any quantity, I didn't get drunk. Oh how I wish I had.

So I didn't get drunk at my debs. So what? I'll tell you so what. My date did. Which is the real problem. It was fine right up til the end. It was so much fun and she was even more crazy than usual. Towards the end of the night she got sick from drinking too much, and still it was fine. But then came the dreaded depression.

She asked me why I'd brought her. I told her it was cos I knew I'd have a laugh with her and all I wanted was a good time. She asked me was I glad I brought her. I said yes. She asked why. I told her it was cos I'd had a great night. She told me I could've had a great night with anyone, reeling off a few names of some of my other friends. I told her she was more fun then them, and more beautiful too.

And she started to cry. That was not what I expected. And even that wasn't so bad. She asked me to hold her. It just felt so perfect, sitting there on the ground outside, holding this girl in my arms under the night sky.

Then she started to talk about why she'd come. She told me how all she wanted was to give me a night to remember, to get me to have a good time, cos she really liked me and only wanted me to be happy. And she'd ruined it.

It was extremely painful for three reasons. First of all, she hadn't ruined my night. I'd had a great time cos of her and it wouldn't have been the same with anyone else. Secondly, I really liked her too and I told her so, which I'm never able to do. Third, and most painful of all, was that I knew that she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, and I'd never know if she'd meant what she said in her drunken state. I'd know she told me she liked me and never know if it was true or not, and she'd never know I liked her. It still pains me these months later.

What does this have to do with me not getting drunk you might ask? Well, it's very simple. If I'd been drunk I wouldn't have remembered that conversation ever happening, It would've saved me a lot of heartache. So my advice to you, good people, always get drunk at your debs. Or any other social gathering where you foresee a similar situation arising. It's worth the hangover to alleviate the pain of the other.

So for everyone who wishes to avoid the situation I'm in, go out right now and get plastered. It's too late for me, but you can still save yourselves.

The Gay Umbrella

It pains me to say that I've been lumped in with a bunch of oddly opinioned lunatics as regards accomodation. Two fellas from Tipperary and two from Kerry. They're an OK bunch most of the time but at others the differences between me and them really shine through.

For example, today Ronan brought home an umbrella he found. He put it on the shelf above the radiator and kept glancing nervously at it as if it was about to attack him. After about half an hour, he got up, walked over to the umbrella, picked it up and said (and I really found this strange), "Here lads, do you think this umbrella's a bit gay?"
I laughed cos I assumed he was joking. He stared at me. "Do you think it's gay?"
Niall to the rescue. "Yeah it does."
In jumped Gary with "It's a bit on the dodgy side there alright."
"I'll just throw it out so,"sighed Ronan.
"What? I'll take it! It's a perfectly good umbrella," I interjected.
"Are you sure?" said Ronan. "It's a bit gay"

I mean what? What? WHAT? Throw out the umbrella cos it was a "bit gay?!?!?!" How can an umbrella be gay? I ask you. It might lack a little masculinity but if it keeps you dry you shouldn't complain. Of course I really don't need it. I like the rain, it's refreshing. But even so, I took the poor thing in. But seriously, Ronan was looking at the thing as if the object itself was homosexual. As if it was going to jump off the shelf and attempt to sodomise him... He was terrified of the thing.

I just don't understand. It's an umbrella for Jesus' sake. Yesterday Niall told a story about how one of his friends wore a pink shirt to college. I mean like, God forbid!!! He might've got a bit more sympathy out of me if he'd taken the time to notice that I myself was wearing a pink t-shirt. And a hairband. What's the big deal? Pink's a colour. Hairbands are for holding your hair out of your eyes. Umbrellas keep you dry. There's no gay about it.

Maybe I'm just slightly bitter right now. The lot of them dragged me out to sing and play guitar for them about an hour ago. I did three songs before they forgot I've only been playing for a year and I'm not very good yet. "Play the solo from Stairway to Heaven" and such. So I told them I couldn't. Ronan put on a CD!!! In the middle of me tryin to find a song that I knew that they wanted to hear. Eventually Ronan was done listening to the stuff on his CD and the requests flew in again.

They called for my party piece, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" and I obliged. I was in full swing and had even added in one of Leonard Cohen's verses, about to go into the solo, when Ronan put on his CD again. I was in the MIDDLE OF THE BLOODY SONG!!!! They'd dragged me out there against my will for the sole purpose of not listening to me and then ridiculing me. It was so infuriating.

Gary and Diarmuid dismissed Ronan's interruption as "bad form," which I appreciated, but the damage was done and I was not in the mood to continue pandering to their drunken wishes. Though my crappy mood was not entirely caused by them and their homophobic, ignorant, drunken antics. For a further explanantion see my next post, which I'll probably put up in a minute or two.

Me, myself and I

Hi there all, I'm Eamonn and trying my hand at this blogging til I get bored or actually get something to do. So I'll start. Today was one of the worst days I've ever experienced. My transformation from mild dosser to absolute waster is now complete. I'm in college for a start. Today I decided to give my lectures a miss. Yesterday I also decided to skip them. This has become a recurring enough pattern so far that I only today realised that I had two essays for the same day in a week and a half which I got two weeks ago and I still haven't read any of the books concerned. Ok so it's my first year but I'd rather I didn't completely destroy myself.

Anyway, today was the day the sheer patheticness of my existence came crashing down on me. I'm 18, only been kissed twice, maybe three times. You can probably tell why from the photo. I'm not good looking and, without extensive surgery, never will be. But I already knew that. That's no revelation. I also know I don't have the most appealing personality. But it's just frustrating to see fellas with less personality and less in the way of looks doing better than me.

My real problem in that regard is actually telling someone I like them. There've been certain girls who I have REALLY liked and when it came to telling them I just froze and missed my moment. And because of this I seem ignorant and I can only assume these girls are hurt and confused about what I feel. But not as hurt and confused by what I know. I've only twice told a girl I like her, only one of these girls was sober at the time and remembered it.

I have rock-bottom self esteem and work myself into regualar fits of depression. The self-esteem thing is easy to explain. I'm a nerd, pure and simple. I went to nerd camp 4 summers in a row. This nerd camp (CTYI, for those who don't know, the Irish Centre for Talented Youth) holds some of my fondest memories and it's there I met some of my best friends. For my nerdiness and general outsiderness I suffered at the hands of bullies for most of my school life. My self-esteem was lowered further by being rejected by several girls for "being too ugly" and even rejected for debs dates 5 times. The debs? Nobody turns down an invitation for that.

And my transition into college has gone as smoothly as everything else usually does for me. I spent the first two weeks sick in bed and missed any easy friend-making opportunity. By the time I recovered people had already organised themselves into their little groups and I was left, once more, alone to make the uphill struggle. My housemates think I'm gay cos I come from Kilkenny and don't play hurling, and more importantly cos I don't find porn a huge turn-on (it's far too impersonal).
I today also realised that nobody knows me well and I don't know anybody well. I've just kind of floated around. Even my best friends will admit to never knowing what's goin on with me and I don't know much about their lives, even if I can read their emotions like a book.

My interests in life are non-existent. I play guitar badly, I sing badly, I go to weapons training on Wednesday nights, I go orienteering at the weekends. I like reading and writing. But in the end of the day, I'm a dilletante. I'll never truly convict myself to one thing for fear of being stuck with it and not having an escape.
And that's why I find myself in a dilemma, loathing my own existence and wishing I could go back and do all the things I should have done. And that's why I've started this blog. To log my life, my thoughts and various other things that seem like a good idea at the time. That's me for now.