Fucking snow

I woke up to find that my lovely Dublin was covered in snow, and more of it fell throughout the day and night. I'm not a big fan of snow, mainly because it's cold and wet and difficult to jog on (I didn't fall this morning, though - woo!) but, I must admit, ploughing through it after work this evening, everything around me looked beautiful. But then I had to wait twenty minutes for a bus that never came, and my mother consequently had to trek out to rescue me, and then she spent the entire car journey complaining about...me...so I kind of ended up hating it again. I'm turning 21 on Thursday, and it'd better not fucking snow that day or I will go MENTAL.

Let's see... I spent the entire weekend with my emo, which was lovely, although he scared the shit out of me on Friday night by turning up at my my living room window and waving at me... He's a strange boy. We had quite a quiet night (well, for a bit anyway...ahem) but it was fun. Unfortunately, it was quite bittersweet because, after we hung out all day Saturday, I had to leave him to go on a date with Star. I was quite anxious about the date, because I didn't know what to expect, and also because I knew I had to tell her about him. It was awkward at first, because she knew she'd fucked up big time, but once we had a few drinks and some good music, we settled into it and it was actually quite fun. She took the news of me and my emo well (although she is completely and utterly sickened by him - I'm not, I could eat him up with a spoon!!) but also made it clear that she intends to fight for me, especially at my birthday thing this weekend...

Anyway, we left early enough and I headed over in the direction of the emo's place. I got a call from a very tipsy Noodles en route, and we decided to meet up at the bus stop near his house and drink a concoction of whiskey and Cidona out of a plastic bottle - very classy indeed. We were in absolute fits, especially after a failed attempt at hiding from the emo that left my drainpipes muddy and me very confused the morning after. The emo had had a bath and got quite tipsy in preparation for my arrival (he had clean hair and smelled very sweet, which isn't quite as odd as the fact that he insists we hold hands constantly while walking down the street..). When we got to his place, we drank more and got fairly silly. I untied his shoelaces and put his phone in the fridge behind the cheese, which is quite clever if you get the in-joke. The rest of the night didn't exactly go to plan, but we had fun anyway. We always do. Time flies when I'm with him, and it takes me forever to get tired. I usually keep talking until I fall asleep.

The morning after, Sunday, we woke up tired and confused. His mother finally got to meet me. She seemed quite shocked to find me spinning around on his desk chair reading Kevin Smith's autobiography while he sulked in bed fully clothed with his back to me. She made some comment about me being his girlfriend. I didn't correct her. She was lovely though, and she gave me a birthday present and a card which was so sweet of her. His entire family sort of crowded around me at one stage, just before I left, as if I was somebody amazing. I'm not, really, but they were all so nice (not quite as mad as mine, but still lovely). The emo was ill all morning and quite upset with me for not telling Star to go fuck herself the night before, but in the end he sort of understood. I know he's dreading seeing us together at my 21st, but he also knows that I am closer to him than I thought I could be to anyone. I don't know how he managed to convince me to trust him, but I do. He makes me believe in love again, which is mad to me, but in a fantastic way... (Star is somebody I could be serious with, but her circumstances right now lead me to be very wary).

And now I'm gushing. I had a family dinner that night, to celebrate my birthday and my gran's because they're only a few days apart. The food was fantastic. I don't eat much when I'm around the emo, because he enjoys starvation. For a long time I couldn't figure out who he reminded me of, but I just noticed a poster of Kurt Cobain on my wall and I think that's who it is. It's not typical Cobain, he has brown hair and a beard and is lying topless on a bed looking annoyed. He looks skinny, but not half as skinny as he was later on in his career. I think it must be one of the earliest photos of him, but I love it, and now it's going to remind me of the emo forever.

My mother told me I have to clean out my room before I go away. I have four weeks to do it. I can't even believe that I'm going away so soon, and those four weeks are going to be insane too. I'm so looking forward to leaving, but the stupidest things are already making me wish I wasn't. I was so sad leaving the hairdresser last Thursday, because I knew I wouldn't be back there for six months at least. It seems stupid, but it's amazing how much one gets used to things...

Oh, here's how my hair looked afterwards. It is no longer that straight, but the roots still look fantastic. At least for the time being.















And now I'm rambling so I'll shut up. I wrote lots today, though, and I'm going to write more in a little bit, so that's good. I was running today and I heard a song that just inspired me to sit for hours and write and write and write. I really got the creative juices flowing, it was a good day. Fucking snow though. Grr...

Song of the day: Radiohead - Nude.