Whiskey in the Jar (-oh)

There was a moment last night, when Metallica launched into their superb (I think, anyway) cover of Whiskey In The Jar only two songs into their set - very out of character for them - that I turned to Noodles, my best friend whom I hadn't hung out with in five months, and told him happily that "This is the moment I am truly welcomed back to Dublin". He laughed, I laughed. And then some prick lunged into my side and I spent the next few minutes pulling his hair until I got distracted by the song again and started bopping along once more. It was a fantastic gig, not least because I was finally hanging out with Noodles but also due to the fact that I felt at home again (something I have not felt very often since I returned, I'm sorry to say).

My mother began arguing with me the moment I got in the door. She hates the emo, mainly because he made my brother (whose arse the sun shines out of no matter how much he fucks up) look bad. Fact is, he was being a good friend to me. And I don't blame my brother for what was simply a misunderstanding. Unfortunately, she blames my friend. Which is bollocks, because she doesn't know him and has not tried to get to know him. I understand where she's coming from, to a certain extent. But I have tried to see her point and I've apologised and she still won't meet me halfway. Now he owes her an apology, and he is willing to say sorry purely for my sake, not hers, which is a testament to how good of a friend he is to me. I wish he didn't have to do it, but if it'll shut her up (which, to be honest, it probably won't), I'm willing to give it a shot.

My bedroom is no longer mine. It has been torn to shreds and now looks and feels like a guestroom. I know where nothing is and everything feels alien to me. The first (and only) night I was back in here, I didn't sleep a wink. I yearned for my flat in Munich, all of which was mine. This place feels like nothing to me now, it's like being a guest somewhere I've never even been before. Since this, for some bizarre reason, is to my mother a more difficult transition for my brother than for me, all efforts are being made to make sure he settles back in well while I am left the outsider.

Before I left, I thought my mother and I were making progress. When my father left, she allocated the head of the dining room table (where family dinner is held every Sunday afternoon) to me, citing my being the eldest as the main reason, and of course the fact that since my father was gone, there was no reason why two women couldn't be the heads of the house. I was impressed with her, she was finally rewarding me for being a damn good kid, which I am (what I do in my private life is another story, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her).

Now, my brother is sitting at the head of the table. I questioned her about it, and she replied "Ah leave him, we can't take everything away from him" referring of course to the fact he'd lived in my room while I was away and is now back in his own bedroom. "Oh, but it's okay to take it away from me?" I asked in response. And her stony silence spoke volumes, as always.

I'm not pissed off at my brother for being the favourite, I'm pissed off because he has done nothing to achieve such a feat and also doesn't acknowledge the fact that this is wrong and he should be speaking up about it. Maybe I'd stay silent in his position too, lap up the attention and the praise for doing basically nothing. Instead, I am resigned to another year (at least, depending on how quickly I can get out of here again) of trying my hardest at everything I do and being close to ignored regardless. I'm not even complaining about it, because I'm used to it at this stage. And I know I shouldn't be shocked by her behaviour, but I am. And it fucking hurts.

Luckily, I haven't been stuck here for the past two days. I was at Metallica all day yesterday, rocking out and catching up with Noodles who I have missed more than words can express. It was so great to just hang out with him and hear all of his stories again. It makes me so excited to see everybody else (although I have to wait another week to see Scooby - boo!). He's got a free house starting tomorrow, so it'll be the perfect opportunity to catch up with everybody. And I can't fucking wait. If there's one thing that is great about being back here, it's that I get to see all of my amazing friends again.

I slept in the emo's house last night and the night before. On Friday, he cooked me my favourite dinner, with candles and a bottle of Merlot (my favourite wine), which is probably the most romantic thing anybody has ever done for me. Afterwards, we watched Chasing Amy (the only Kevin Smith movie I had yet to see, which was awesome), took a bath, fucked, got stoned, talked, and slept in each other's arms. It was perfect. The following night, we had Chinese food at 3AM after Metallica, got stoned and fell asleep again. I was made late for dinner today by his insistence upon indulging in some fantastic Sunday sex (a tradition I am most fond of), which I was very happy to give in to. I feel so lucky to have him, even though I know he'd rather have me as his girlfriend than...his lover, I suppose... But I'll over-complicate things if I start to think about them too much. I just need to live and feel and enjoy. That's what life is all about, after all.

Now I'm tempted to head over to his house again, seeing as I don't really feel at home here anymore. I don't really feel at home anywhere, to be honest. I miss Munich, I miss the life I had there. I know that I've returned to another life, a life I used to love. And a part of me still loves it, a big part of me. Another part of me is really, really excited for what's to come. But the shit with my mother is difficult, and seeing as she won't speak to me as an adult no matter how hard I try just makes it more so. I'm finding it difficult to stay here and try to move forward, but I know that I have to at least try.

I'll shut up now, because people have it way worse than me. Besides, whenever I feel like this I think of Frodo, who has gone through more suffering than anybody else I've ever met and is still one of the most positive, optimistic, yet realistic, happy people I've ever known. He is a true inspiration, and if I could imitate anybody's philosophy on life, it'd be his.

For now, I guess I'll just have to do the best that I can.


Song of the day: Slipknot - Three Nil.