I drank with a boy that I’ve known for a long time. My opinions of him have change dramatically. I have a tendency to view people only by their part in my own life, and so he is an embarrassing ex boyfriend, an occasional drinking partner, the creep who shouted at me for dragging a broken-hearted friend from his clutches at a party. I forget that along with being a bit part in my story, everyone is the star of their own. Last night, I looked at him properly, as a full person, regrets and hopes and fears. Fears I would never have thought he had. And I shared mine with him. My regrets about losing my friends, and the way it has made me push people away, my pain about my grandfather’s horrible smoking induced death, and how I remember his unconscious bloated body each time I finish a cigarette and I hate myself, my fears about never being good enough, never living up to all those expectations and spending so much time trying that I never find happiness, never even discover what I’m looking for in order to find happiness. And he listened, and he responded, and I love him for it. A sympathetic ear is all very well, but personally a prize a sensible mouth above it.

He took a half smoked packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and through them into the traffic of the main road. There may be more to this boy than I first thought.

In other news, I finally fulfuilled my promise to the wonderful Mark and wrote a music review. For all those interested, Mark is the drummer in a local band and founder/writer/editor of a music zine, and I pretty much worship him. It’s strange…I don’t really go in for hero worship. I remain underwhelmed by the majority of people that I meet, and always leave the ‘Who is your idol’ questions on surveys blank. But I genuinely do think Mark is wonderful. Go read his reviews and you may see why. It was for this reason that I was so delighted when he asked me to do some reviews, and so terrified of actually doing them. I like the idea of working on a zine with him, but not the actual showing him my writing. I reviewed Can’t Smile by Vex Red, mainly because I’ve listened to it about three hundred times in the past week. I emailed it to Mark quickly before I could chicken out, and am awaiting response.

I’m currently supposed to be constructing an essay on whether Catholic priests should refuse sacraments to those who do not practice their faith. But, as a fellow procrastinator said, ‘do I look like a Catholic priest? So why do they presume I care?’ I did point out that actually, they (being all teachers, examiners and assorted other adult types who annually inflict complete horror and pain in the form of exams on thousands of innocent teenagers) find it all the more enjoyable to set assignments we have no interest in whatsoever. I’ll do it, really I will. Later. (that is fast becoming my motto for life).

From bobby’s diary today : ‘don’t only look for the facts that support your preconceptions.’ Quite.

< - >

* the marks of memories forgotten
* wasting emotions, over again
* intentions, and such
* nothing unusual, nothing's changed - just a little older, that's all (damien rice : amie)
* now I understand! It doesn't make sense because it isn't supposed to