More Munich madness (see what I did there?)

Munich still kicks ass. Although I keep dreaming of Dublin...and my mother's Sunday dinners...

Let's see...what can I unravel from my jumbled thoughts of the last few days...

Last weekend was great fun, despite all of the shit from home. On Thursday, I attended another Erasmus party which involved one too many vodka and oranges, a swift kick to the shins of the American, an hour long argument with the Swede about whether or not Wait and Bleed is on Iowa (it is not, I told him over and over - I really do sound like a crazed Slipknot superfan), throwing up in the U-Bahn station and being carried home by an unidentified Brummie hockey player (who I saw the other day on the way back from Pennymarkt - cringe). It was an eventful evening, from what I can remember. I woke up fully clothed, with even my Docs still laced up, and a broken glass at my feet. My head was fuzzy, but I was filled in later on about my rather classy misadventures. Nothing like puking in a Tube station in a brand new dress.

Why does nobody dress up over here?

It's becoming increasingly apparent to me that these Erasmus parties (thrown by the ever-present, ever-cheery MESA) are nothing more than piss-ups, where everybody shuffles around in their jeans, half-dancing and half trying to hook up with each other (I pulled, or was pulled rather, by a Polish girl - score!) but nobody really gives a shit (except for the Italian girls, one of whom wears lipliner no matter what the occasion and absolutely HAS to be sent the dress code in advance otherwise she simply CANNOT MAKE IT to the party). Such is the beauty of these parties. Nobody notices when one can no longer stand.

The next one is on Friday. I can't wait.

On Saturday, I finally managed to drag the girls out to a lovely Goth club, in the Kultfabrik, called Refugium. They were all terrified before we even got inside, and even more so when we did (being stared out by a table of hardcore Goths didn't really put them at ease). But, a couple of blood-red shots and some Combichrist later and they were all getting into the swing of things. The place itself was fantastic. The decor was amazing; all grey walls, red roses, everything lit by candlelight. Most of the people in there were fairly hardcore, but they were welcoming and didn't pick on us for being different. Charley and Clare went home early, having had enough Darkwave and strobe lighting for the night, but Saz and I stayed on till 4 and enjoyed the ambience, as it were. She got a bit upset at one point, but I managed to cheer her up. And then the DJ played Closer, which is impossible to resist dancing to, and all was well again.

Of course, I was in my element. I don't frequent goth clubs as much as I used to, because I prefer to hear a mix of different genres over the course of a night out, but Refugium was very special. And the music was fantastic. It was nice to finally know the songs and feel a bit more at home.

I still have a dreadful metal craving though....hopefully it will be satisfied next weekend...

I started uni yesterday. I did a radio journalism class with Saz, and it actually wasn't as horrible as we'd anticipated it would be. The German was pretty easy to follow and everybody was really nice. The insitute we're in reminds me so much of uni back home, but it's also completely different. Their radio studio makes me yearn for ours, and the lecturer thought we both looked completely subversive (that's the problem with Criminal Damage dresses) and strange but I think we'll manage to fit in okay. ECTS points are not easily achieved over here, especially not in practical classes (which accounts for all of mine) but hopefully it won't be too hard.

I'm dreading tomorrow, though. It's so nerve-wracking.

I haven't been homesick lately. I miss rocking out with Noodles and having girly chats with Scooby, but I know that it'll be twice as awesome when I finally get back so I'm not too worried. I miss all of the lads from back home, though, because over here I don't really have anybody to headbang with (not yet, anyway). Rock Im Park is only six weeks away, which seems ridiculous. That'll be an excuse to headbang anyway. I can't believe I'm going to get to see Slipknot again! Eek!!

The emo is dealing a bit better with my absence. He's been keeping busy, and now that he has something to look forward to (ie coming over here to see me in June) he's been a lot more upbeat. I worry about him obsessing too much about what I'm doing and who I'm seeing. I don't want him to waste any time. I hope he's happy. I hope I can make him happy.

I can't believe I've been here for almost two months. Soon I'll be halfway through my time here. It feels completely unreal. I probably say this a lot, but this is one of the best experiences of my life. I want to get everything out of it that I possibly can, and I think I am so far. I know it's going to be over before I know it. According to Tar, who's been in Vienna since last September, it's been the quickest year of his life. I didn't believe him when he first said it, but now I do.

I want this to slow down, it's going by too fast...


Song of the day: Foo Fighters - Everlong.

Lies, Let downs...and love

I sat down to write this and now I'm not even sure about what I have to say.

I'm not in the best frame of mind. I'm viciously hungover, last night is only coming back in parts, and news from home has made me question everything all of a sudden. I hate that this is happening, because I know that it's exactly what he wants, but I'm only human and I cannot pretend that this doesn't hurt, because it does. I keep asking myself, when will this end, when will he give up, how much more can I be expected to take - questions that will remain unanswered for quite some time, I'm sure, if the last eleven months are anything to go by...

Next month, I will have been single for an entire year. It's an accomplishment that I am very proud of, although it seemed at times to be the worst idea I'd ever had. The last eleven months have been great and horrible.I've laughed more than I ever have before. I've cried more tears than I thought a human body could produce.

I'm still here, though. Somehow.

I have to stop and think about writing all of this down, because sometimes it doesn't even seem real. If I saw it in a film, I would question its' validity as a plausible storyline. But it happened. And, sadly enough, it's still happening.

Last May, I ended a hugely destructive relationship and foolishly thought my problems would then be over. In reality, my nightmare was only just beginning. Over the last eleven months, I have had every aspect of my character torn to shreds, my friends harrassed, my love interests warned to stay away from me, rumours started, blogs written, phone calls made, etc, etc. People I've met for the first time claim to already know enough about me to keep their distance. I lost all of my friends except for a small few, and had to completely rebuild my life as a result. It wasn't easy, and I'm not going to pretend that I felt stronger instantly. Strength is something I've had to build up over time, sometimes by acting, often by refusing to react. I've been pushed to my very limits and, I'm not going to lie, I felt like giving up at times.

I have new friends and a new life now, and I'm finally happy. Unfortunately, somebody else's happiness depends on my being unhappy, and thus, efforts are still being made to destroy everything I've built.

I was not solely responsible for the break-up and neither was he. At least I have the guts to own up to that fact.

I know that a lot of people believe him, and think that I'm a selfish, manipulative, narcissistic bitch. They think I control my friends, that I'm devoid of feeling, that I'm completely and utterly self-involved. None of that is the truth. None of anything he says about me is true.

That may be me trying to manipulate you, though, so watch out.

I can't convince anybody that I'm not who he says I am, all I can do is keep living my life and trying to be the best person I can be. I don't care if people think the worst of me. I know who I am, and my friends know who I am. Unfortunately, he refuses to stop trying to ruin my life and eleven months on, it's not only pathetic, but almost psychotic too. Several attempts have been made to turn my friends against me, by encouraging them to "see the light". When they refused to see things his way, they were punished in much the same way I have been punished. They wanted to retaliate, but the problem with that is that, no matter what they say or do of their own accord to stand up for themselves, he will find a way to twist it and convince others that they are only doing what they are told.

So we all must sit back and take it, keep our mouths shut and do our best to continue on with our lives.

But still he persists.

Last night, a few of my closest friends watched as he pathetically forced himself on Star and some of her friends in a bar. He even went home with them. I was so shocked when they told me, that I almost fainted. But really, I shouldn't be surprised at all. This kind of shit has become typical of my life. Something similar happened in another bar last weekend. He pretends that my friends are his friends, when they clearly are not. It sounds ridiculous, but it's true.

I sometimes wonder why he gets his kicks from trying to destroy my life. Has he nothing better to do? Maybe it seems like I have nothing better to do than write this blog. But this needs to be written, not just for me but for anybody who is wondering why I am the way that I am. Nobody but Saz, who witnessed almost everything, will ever know how bad it was, how bad it is. Trying to understand helps. I don't expect any pity, unlike him. I'm not going to pretend to be a fucking saint. I've made some bad decisions. I've made lots of mistakes. I admit that. But I'm trying my best and I'm completely and utterly honest with everybody about who I am and what I've done.

What Star did last night was unforgivable. I don't know how I'm ever going to trust her again, but I love her and I know that I'll have to try. It sickens me that this so-called man cannot let it go after eleven months of torturing me. I'm starting to wonder if it will ever end. I cherish my life and those closest to me. I could not bear to lose it all again and I will not let that happen. I have worked too fucking hard for this.

I know this will probably fuel the fire, and I'm prepared for that. I just had to write.


Song of the day: Slipknot - Dead Memories.

Hammered in Munich

All right, so I finally managed to get completely wasted in Munich last Friday night, at the first official Erasmus party in Mad Max (basically the setup of a school disco) and it did NOT disappoint. In fact, it was well worth waiting five weeks for because it was one of the best nights out I have ever had, and definitely the best in Munich so far!

I registered for college early on Friday, and I managed to make two friends in the queue, a guy from Sweden (who I delightedly told had hair almost the same colour as mine) and an American whom I bonded with over a shared hatred of sport. Both were coming to the party, I discovered, and were intending to get drunk. The Swede was shocked that I'd been in Munich for five weeks and hadn't managed to get drunk. Truth be told, so was I. I think it was the beer thing that threw me. Spirits are so expensive over here, and the beer is so strong and cheap that everybody is expected to drink it. I hate beer, but I'd knock it back if I had to. At this stage, I was getting quite desperate.

Charley, Saz and I did pre-drinks in my flat beforehand. We started drinking at half 7 and didn't leave until two hours later. Seeing as Saz and I were drinking flavoured vodka at a strength of 20%, one can imagine that we were slightly tipsy when the time came to leave.. The weather was mild, it hasn't snowed here in a week or so, and so we were strolling along happily when suddenly, out of nowhere, we were accosted by six youths on bicycles... They realised that we spoke English and decided to follow us all the way to the U-Bahn station while shouting such fine pleasantries as "Suck my dick, bitch" at us. We were in stitches by the time we got to the train. Saz was a bit scared, but we had a Bullet singalong to cheer her up.

We met our Polish friends on the train and then picked up my new American friend, who looked very confused when we found him, at the station in Studententstadt and made our way to the club. Only it wasn't really a club, more of a converted basement with a small dancefloor and a bar. I knew what had to be done. I challenged the American to a drinking contest, to which he happily agreed. The others fucked off to the dancefloor, while the two of us spent the next couple of hours going back and forth between the bar (where I later ran into the Swede, who was working on getting hammered but wasn't quite there yet) and the so-called smoking area.

It's here where I start to draw a few blanks...

In between this time and the time we left, which was about 4.30AM, I spoke to several people from my Sprachkurs, conversed with Saz as Gaeilge and ended up lying underneath a foosball table and drinking cocktails. The American later passed out and I was chatted up by some guy in German. I don't know how I managed to speak in German while drunk, but I did. Seeing as I was missing for most of the night, nobody knows for sure what exactly I did. I woke up the next morning covered in bruises and with a raging hangover. I know that I hooked up with someone, but who it was will remain known only to the two of us, seeing as it was a drunken thing and is still a bit fuzzy in my head. I don't know how I got so bruised. Or who I spoke to. There's also the small matter of why I was lying under a foosball table with the American, and why the fuck we were discussing Kurt Cobain, broken toilets and Radiohead... Or how I managed to drink so much without getting sick. Or why I ended up in Burger King with Saz and Charley at 5AM. So many unanswered questions, that will probably remain as such.

Saz pulled the official hottest guy on the course, but complained that he couldn't kiss. She and Charley samba danced the night away with all of the Brazilians and could barely stand the next day as a result. Gill pulled Marina, and they haven't spoken since. Charley's Brit bud, Clare, got one hell of an introduction to life in Munich and everybody got very, very drunk. It was, in a word, fucking EPIC. Now if only I wasn't having so many flashbacks, and could actually remember the majority of it...


Song of the day: Bif Naked - Let Down.

Reflections and ramblings

Seeing as I have officially been living here for a month now (and my mother informed me in a rather touching email that it's the longest I've ever been away from her), I think it's only fitting that I write something to mark the date, and reflect somewhat on the past four weeks. I'll probably start rambling on about how much I'm looking forward to getting my tattoo (I've been catching up on LA Ink over here and it's making the itch for a new one even worse), or whatever else is running through my mind at the time, but bear with me because I do have a point...probably.

Living away from home for the first time wasn't as big of an adjustment as I'd thought it would be. I was discussing this with Saz in my kitchen this afternoon, and we agreed that it kind of felt natural in a way, like a transition into the so-called "real world". The thought of moving back in with my mother and siblings when I return to Dublin doesn't fill me with dread, though, as I'd anticipated it would. That's probably because it's out of necessity that I'm doing so, and also because I know my mother needs my support. Living alone with strangers has its' highs and lows, but for the most part it's been fantastic, and a real learning experience for me. I know there are some who are arrogant about how well they've adjusted to living with strangers, but witnessing what one of my friends has gone through with some very unfriendly flatmates, I think we should all take what we can get with a pinch of salt, and not assume that things are going to run smoothly forever. Luckily, I am very happy where I am and the majority of the time the atmosphere is quiet and respectful (unless Rudi is raving, of course).

Munich is a beautiful city, and it's huge - much, much bigger than Dublin. I still feel slightly lost in it, but I'm learning my way around bit by bit (with the help of our Brit buds, who have been here for six months already) and I've even found a beer that I like, so the idea of getting hammered finally seems more attainable. I probably sound like an alcoholic. I'm not going to apologise for how much I drink, nor am I going to explain it. I don't get wasted as often as a lot of people, and when I do the experience is generally positive for all involved. I haven't been drunk over here yet, and it's something I'm dying to do purely for the memories that will be made because of it. I already have a million, hilarious stories to tell from the last month, so who knows what's to come!

I've had a lot of time to think and reflect since I've been over here. The drama continues back home, of course, with one of my friends causing more of a stir than usual. The decisions this person has made affect more people than is obvious to the common eye, and a lot of people fear that the repercussions may be detrimental. But, of course, one cannot make decisions for somebody else. Everybody is free to make his/her own mistakes. Fuck knows I've made a lot of them, and I'm glad because otherwise I'd be completely fucked in the head and unsure of who I am and who the people around me are. It's horrible to give up on somebody, but quite often the person has been given all of the chances possible and it is the only course of action left... That sounded fairly morbid. Shit.

I've been writing loads over here, even though I rarely have the time. It's been flowing out of me, and I can't really explain why... I'm being influenced by all of the new things I'm experiencing, both good and bad. And, of course, I have my love life to inspire me also. I've stopped questioning what I thought of as love, because I am sure of what I felt in the past but I am also sure of what it means to be loved...and I think I'm only properly experiencing that now. I'm referring, of course, to romantic love, not love shared between friends. When I was 18, I experienced a diluted form of it, with somebody who was more of a friend than anything else. I'm sure we loved each other in a certain way, but not in the most complete way. I will keep those memories forever as my introduction to love, but I am only now experiencing the reality of romantic love and it has shocked me to my core. But the less I say about that the better.

I got another package from the emo today. It was filled with posters of my favourite people, some of whom I was shocked even he knew about. I had been made to believe that a lot of what I said was irrelevant (I do talk a lot, and I know that, but I love to listen too) but apparently not... Even my recent obsession with Criss Angel (swoon) was taken into account. He also included a love letter, but not the kind I'm used to receiving from him. Last weekend, I stayed up late reading Joyce's love letters and I was shocked by how utterly filthy they were. Still, the man was a fantastic writer and I don't blame him for letting his kinky side out (that would be fairly hypocritical of me, after all...). The emo's letter shocked me too, but for a different reason. He seemed to capture everything about us in the simplest of words, with the most genuine of feeling underneath it all. It's a strange situation, complicated of course by Star, who also feels quite strongly for me (and I her, although we show it in different ways). I watched Zack and Miri Make A Porno earlier on and I thought the love story was so touching, largely because of how utterly unconventional it was. I love unconventional love stories. I hate that certain people have fairytale ideas, or even concrete ones, about what love should and shouldn't be. Love just is, it cannot be explained.

And now I'm rambling. I'm very excited to get my third tattoo, although it won't be happening until late June/early July. It's a symbol very close to my heart, which represents a love of women and also a love of fetish. I picked it out and then the emo altered it for me, so that it would feel more personal. I still love getting pierced, of course, but tattoos tend to have a lot more meaning for me. I'm quite sure that I'm addicted now, though.. I have the next ten picked out...

I should really finish this up now, so that I can begin writing a reply to the emo. I can't believe it's already April, this year is flying by. I can't wait for the summer, and to start uni. I picked my classes today and I'm so excited to get started. It's all happening now...it feels so fucking surreal...

Song of the day: Lacuna Coil - Closer.