Today has been a day of emotions without any apparent cause and with no sign of stopping.

 

You know occasionally you get that sort of hankering to be in a relationship?  This is the first time I've got that in SO long... which is irritating and a bit confusing.  I've been mourning what has been and isn't any more... even though I'm quite happy that I'm not in that situation any more, and I wouldn't go back to it if you paid me.  I just miss that glowing feeling you get when you wonder if someone's thinking about you... or when you see that they're online at exactly the moment that they start to talk to you, and those butterfiles you get when you're sat on the edge of your seat on the train staring out of the window so that you don't miss your stop because in... precisely seven minutes, you'll see him again...

 

God I'm sad.  Not any more.  That was about five hours ago.  Blah.  Snapoutofit.

 

It's only the feeling anyway.

 

I've been writing loads recently.  You know, that story I'm sticking on Fictionpress?  (www.fictionpress.com search Caine19)  I'll upload some of it soon...  I just need to get my story straight.  I'll let you know, yeah?

 

Maybe I ought to write you something at two o'clock in the morning.  Then I can be really frank.  Maybe I'll do that.  Yeah.

 

But for now, I'm going to finish loading my webcam software on to this lovely new computer and then go with it.

Right, then.  Here we go.

 

Ad Maths - A

Biology - A*

Chemistry - A*

English Lang - A*

English Lit - A

History - A

Latin - B

Maths - A*

Physics - A*

Spanish - A

T.S. - B

 

Any concerns about members of my family that may or may not have been altogether pleased with this result are currently out of the window - how long this will last, I don't know, but I did better than her (*cough*) so hopefully all will be well.

 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to ring my grandmother.  This may take a while, sorry.  Why she wants me to ring is a mystery - both my father and aunt have already told her.  She's probably forgotten.  Or just wants the attention.  I'm not bitter.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays light fools

The way to dusty death.  Out, out, brief candle!

Live's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more.  It is a tale,

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing." Macbeth V/5

 

I learnt that off by heart the other day.  It's fitting, right?  Completely fitting.

 

I was at Uncle Jim's funeral today.  Don't ask me about it.  It was fine.  Yes, it was fine.  It was a FUNERAL, for Christ's sake.  You can't come out of it unscathed.  I can only remember having met Uncle Jim a few times, but he was lovely.  I miss what he meant to other people.  That's not why I'm so worried by this whole thing.  It's just that the whole family was there.  Granny, her sister, their families... Uncle Jim was Granny's brother, so his family was there.  Irvines amassing from all over the country.  And all of them knowing who I was... and I can hardly remember them.  I am an Irvine, I can't escape it.  There is nothing I can do.  But I'm not a part of it, I'm not, I feel so sidelined.  And then there's that they're all happy together... look, I'll have to draw you a family tree for you to understand this.  The Irvines are in three "clans", well that's what I call them: the Margaret clan, that's mine, the Sheila, and Jim clans.  They're the Irvines.  They're the original brother and sisters, we all descend from them.

 

Sheila and Jim's family are close, tight-knit.  We revolve around Granny.  And there is a sort of unmentioned split.  And I am on one side and there is nothing I can do about it.  So today, I was an Irvine but not an Irvine.  Do you understand?  That's all the explanation you are getting, so it had better.

 

I'm so worried for Dad, too.  He doesn't talk about this.  He doesn't like family.  And yet - he's taking it harder than he's letting on.  He felt left out by the Christian service, I know it.  And he's feeling worse than he says.  We stood in the whispering wind, under a tree, as the self-important and the people who felt the right to went to pay their respects.

 

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"Very astute of you."

 

That's it.  Why can't we talk about it?  Because Men don't.  If that's what it is to be a man, to bottle up your feelings, promise me you'll never grow up.

 

Things I thought were dead, on another note, are reawakening.  I've tried, time after fucking time, to stop thinking about them...  I don't want to talk about it.  It is my business and I am inches from bankruptcy.  I'll work through it.  I did last time, and the time before... and I can do it again.  I can.

 

"Time and time again, I've said that I don't care

That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through

But every time it matters, all my words desert me

So anyone can hurt me, and they do."

 

Don't ask me to tell you... don't ask me to..  I can't.  I really can't.  I can't break this.

 

WHAT AREN'T YOU TELLING ME?

 

Good- good grief.  Good grief.  Fuckitall... grief...

 

"For you, I'd bleed myself dry..."

Does anyone else have any of those little rules, just that make them very uncomfortable if they're used wrongly?  This is one of them.

 

My name is FIONA.  Not Fona, Finona, NONE OF THAT.  FIONA.

 

If you know me really well, and I'm thinking several years, then yeah, Fi is acceptable.  After two years of knowing some people really well, yeah, I have no problem whatsoever with you calling me Fi.  But if not, I AM FIONA.

 

I just get a knot in my throat so that it's difficult to breathe for a second and I think, "Piss off!  You don't know me that well!"  Fi is a diminuitive.  Maybe that's why I'm so touchy.  But it is incredibly irritating that people have the cheek, yeah, that's right, the cheek to think that they can call me Fi when they hardly know me.

 

I am not - repeat NOT - launching into a "they don't know the real me" speech, because that's not true.  For the most part, I like to think that what you see is what you get.  I'm probably totally wrong there, but I don't wear a mask as a general rule.  So if it's anyone's fault that people don't know the real me, it's mine for not showing them.  But it's like standing in someone's personal space, or rooting through their bag.  You wouldn't want any old person doing that, would you?  So ffs I am Fiona.  It's not all that hard to say, is it?

 

The only problem with this is, now, I can expect all kinds of comments from all kinds of people, saying "You don't mind me calling you Fi, do you?" as if to say it's only little old me, I know your innermost secrets, don't I?  Well I'm not exactly going to say, "No, bugger off, I'm Fiona to you and that's final," am I?  Apart from anything else, that's excruciatingly rude.  So general guide: if you wouldn't mind me looking through your bag (or if you're a boy whatever your incredibly masculine equivalent of a bag is - give me a break), chances are Fi is okay.  If you "wouldn't care" whoever it was, then assume I'm Fiona.  People who don't care should be made to do several months of community service so that they can not caring is going to get them forgotten and alone.

 

Here endeth the lesson.

 

Contrary to the above rant, I've actually been in a reasonable mood today - despite being at home babysitting Lily all day.

 

The only thing that's hanging over me like Damocles' sword is the exam results.  Surely not everyone is this terrified of them?  I pity you and feel for you if you do, because I am petrified.  The last few nights I have hardly slept.  Monday night I was crying myself to sleep.  It's not the actual results that are having such an effect on me, it's just that if I don't get what Mum wants me to get (which is not the same as saying I will do well, which I assure you I intend to do) then I will never hear the end of it.  She doesn't think I worked hard enough.  If I don't get what she wants me to get, then she will be proved right, and I will be hearing about it for months.  I really don't want to hand her more ammunition right now.

 

Yes, of course, I Am Sure I Will Do Fine.  But Fine is one thing.  That is my standard.  That is your standard.  And, at the moment, we are reasonable.  Not everyone has the luxury of being reasonable.

 

Sometimes, the moral high ground isn't quite enough to justify the casualties.  I hope to Jesus, Mary, Joseph and whatever number of siblings he may or may not have had, that there aren't any casualties.

My Uncle Jim died this morning.  Two o'clock.  He'd been ill for a while.  I met him a few times, we never really had that much of an oppertunity to see that side of my family.  I've never really liked them or been interested.  But whenever I met him he was lovely.  That's just what he was like.  This world is the poorer without him.

 

Today has been good, the last few days have been really good, but I can't help feeling that I'm compartmentalising things again.  I'm a different person at home, with different people... which is odd really, it's the fault of going on holiday.  I've not had it like this for ages.  It's not good.

 

They've been mucking about with the layout of MSN spaces, haven't they?  This is new, odd.  I don't like it as much as the old ones.  Ah well.

 

I've taken to wearing an Edward I coin (replica, before you start thinking it's worth a fortune) around my neck.  I go through phases of necklaces... silver cross for morals being strongest, celtic knot for heritage and mysticism... or a lump of polished agate for "I Think".  This is for some things staying the same, even though the world around them is changing.  The Romans had coins.  They've lasted.  And this one has the old royal coat of arms on it... which coincidentally enough was the same one as Edward VI had - so it's the KES crest.  And that's changing too, without me.  So it's a bit of an oxymoron, this coin.

 

Plus it looks piratey.

 

EVA: So what happens now?

CHE: You'll get by, you always have before.

EVA: Where am I going to?

CHE: Don't ask any more.