Oh Dear Diary, We Fell Apart

They say every teenage girl, or person, even, should keep a diary or journal. A place to record your feelings and secrets, and let out your frustrations.

I started keeping a diary before my thirteenth birthday, and ended (so far) just after my fifteenth. I filled up two ring binded Paperchase notebooks. Those rings would become bended and twisted from being shoved in my schoolbag every day. Scrawls of red, pink, blue, black ink that changed colour with the yellow pages of my first notebook.

All my adolescent angst and turmoil was spent during my First and Second years of secondary school, when I was thirteen and fourteen. Some of that has been recorded here, if you're willing to look or have been around long enough. Those diaries were filled with the usual stuff, like 'why won't anyone be my friend? I can't be that unbearable' and 'I HATE THEM ALL THOSE SELFISH BITCHES'. I'm not quoting directly or anything, that's just the gist. Then there was more personal stuff, like 'I thought I was supposed to be smart, so why am I so bad at everything at school?' I wasn't that bad, really. Just terrible at maths, but the next year I would go from Honours to Ordinary, so happy ending there. But lots of people, a few with letters and initials after their names, had told me when I was in primary school that I was really clever, and then I didn't feel clever anymore. I didn't know what to think.

So there I was, pouring all my problems out into my diary, fulfilling the stereotype. People say that's a great way to look at your problems, out there on the page instead of all muddled up in your head. But after a while, I started to realise the opposite - as I wrote them down, my problems left my mind, and in doing so entered the real world. I could not deny them anymore, for they existed. It made them all the more terrifying and unsolvable, and made me all the more unhappier. I didn't like it.

I didn't mean to stop writing my diary, it was completely unintentional. During the Christmas holidays of my Third Year in school, a month after I turned fifteen, my school opened for about a week for girls doing exams to come in and study for a few hours a day. I went in and each day I would spend the bulk of my time studying and about an hour writing in my diary, but the diary-writing time grew day by day. I'd gotten news of a play I was going to be involved in, and I was so excited, but I had a plan. I wasn't going to just write it in my diary, I would print out the email I'd gotten and paste it in, for posterity! So each day I would hint at it, and agonise over leaving my friends, and become unbelievably excited.

I never stuck it in.

I'm glad I got over my angst back when I was younger, and that it didn't stick around. Of course I'm still worried and angry about things now, but only sometimes, and I know how to deal with it. I know that I have power. And people to talk to. Those days I only had friends outside of school, and while they're great and everything, they're not really that much use to you on a daily basis. (I DON'T MEAN THAT I LOVE YOU)  What I needed was friends in school, and for whatever reason, my own... I don't know what it was, or maybe I don't want to know, but I didn't have them. At the start of Fourth Year, which I finished back in June, I thought 'Okay, I don't need people anymore... but it'd be cool to have them.' I didn't need friends, I just wanted them. And they were there.

I think.

Those diaries are now in a box in the shed, which I refer to as the Archives in my head. Whenever I read them, which isn't very often, I feel sad. But that's only natural.

And sometimes I still want to write my feelings down, or what's happening, down on paper, where I can scrawl, and it only belongs to me. But I don't want to get back into the habit again. I want to leave it behind.

Dear L.N.R...

A few days after this blog was created. A post about this event here - http://apostrophe-rules.blogspot.com/2010/01/ive-been-very-sad-recently.html 

At Musings' first birthday, November 2010. Forgot to get any cake.

In which I get the knack of smiling in photos. March 2011.

Insert photo of present self here.

Dear L.N.R...

This is the moniker you like to go by, isn't it? L.N.R. - Eleanor! If I've done this right, you should be reading this just as you're starting your blog, Musings of an Undiscovered Genius in November 2009. It's your birthday soon, isn't it? You're going to be fourteen. Wow.

You're probably wondering who I am, right? I'm Eleanor Roscuro. Sixteen. February 2012. I know, that seems so far away, but it came, and we're here. And I'll be eighteen next year and everything! I know! Amazing! But anyway. 

Listen. Between where you are and where I am now, things are going to change. Huge changes for us, and for the country. I can't say too much, but here's just some tips.

• Twitter's fun, isn't it? You know that American girl who's followed you for some reason, The Vintage Vixen? She has a blog too. Read it.
• When was the last time you re-read Harry Potter? When you're done, go onto that website Tumblr and search it. Also: Have a little think about Slytherins. Just because there was a really bad batch of them during Harry's years doesn't mean they're all... evil.
• Start going to more plays. Even if it looks really serious and boring. That usually means it will grip on your heart in a way you never imagined, and there's nearly always some funny bits. 
• There's this young theatre company in Kilkenny, Devious or something. When mum asks you if you want to see the play with the poster in green, pink and orange, go. For fun. Also: Just because they're so big and older than you and everything doesn't mean they're scary. Only at first.
• There's absolutely no need to be some kind of martyr. I know you want to seem professional and everything, but not being a martyr will make you more professional. Funny how that works.
• If you are unsure about telling mam (or dad) something, it is probably best not to tell them. Imagine it was your daughter.
• No one's out to get you, not anymore. If you are extremely patient, they will flock to you, but for now, be the kind of person that has loads of friends already.
• They're not bitches, they're dizzies. It's nicer.
• Keep writing. On Musings, in your diary, poems and stories, everything. Keep it all for when you're my age and even older.
• You may have heard of a man named Michael D. Higgins. He's a TD, a really arty one. He's got a few books out too, read them. Remember him.
• When people laugh at you for boycotting Penneys, don't mind them. Research sweatshops and child labour more.
• Don't seek out romantic entanglements. Let all that stuff come to you.
• I know you're secretly in love with that other youth theatre, but they don't mean to upstage you. You'll  get to know them in the end, and you won't even have to leave KYT to do it.
• I know you love Paramore, but don't let them be your favourite band. Explore. There's a whole world out there (on the internet) you still have to discover.
• There's nothing wrong with how you look. Keep experimenting with your hair colour and cut, and you're going to lose that weight. How, I have no idea, but it happens.
• You're going to love blogging. You're going to love theatre, not just acting. You're going to love Kilkenny even more than you do already. You are worthy of all the good things that have happened and are going to happen to you. 
• Be your own best friend. I know it sounds silly, but you have to enjoy yourself. I'll say it again, it's that important: BE YOUR OWN BEST FRIEND. That's the secret.

I know I'm only sixteen, and I still have loads left to learn, but I feel much happier than I have since primary school. Things are going to be brillliant. 

The most love in the world,

Eleanor Roscuro

This Is Musings of an Undiscovered Genius

So last Sunday I was going to put this as my Quote of the Week...

Thousands of geniuses live and die undiscovered - either by themselves or by others.


Mark Twain

And I thought that'd be great, since Mark Twain is usually quoted a lot and it mentions undiscovered geniuses and everything, but something made me read it again. And again. And again.

And now I've just realised that I need to change the name of this blog, even though I don't want to. Labelling myself as an Undiscovered Genius is automatically saying to myself 'Eleanor, you're fantastic and everything, but let's make sure no one else knows about it, OK?' And I don't want to do that. The name Musings of an Undiscovered Genius was incredibly easy for me to come up with when I first created this blog. I just thought 'OK, my blog needs a name... Musings of an Undiscovered Genius! Yes!' And I thought I was being kind of cocky and confident about the genius part, which I am (both cocky and confident and a genius) and the undiscovered part simply meant that... I'm not sure. I think it meant that I wasn't really well-known, (which seems incredibly superficial now that I'm fifteen and wiser) and that my potential still needed to be... discovered. Musings was created at a time in my life where I wasn't exactly bouncing around with happiness. And 'Musings of a...' has been used SO MUCH. Ugh.

But finding a new blog name is going to be really hard, and that's why I'm reluctant to change. And Music at Musings worked so well, it was simple and there was alliteration! But I NEED to change this name. And I'm so afraid I'm going to eventually pick a completely rubbish name that won't appeal to anybody (because something I've noticed about blogs is that the best blogs have rubbish names and the worst blogs have absolutely brilliant names) and I can't just call it Eleanor Surname because I'm still only fifteen. Safety and all that. Oh God.

I don't know whether to thank Twain or dance on his grave.

Oh, and this counts as a Quote of the Week.

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY I'M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD TOMORROW OMG

I know I keep talking about it, but how can I not? It's not like turning forty-seven, after all. It's an important milestone!

So I haven't told you what happened the day I turned fourteen, even though I said I was going to. Thing is... I did tell you. It's on this very blog right now. But I didn't have any followers then, and I doubt you've read that far back, so I'm going to give you an excerpt from my past self. Are you ready?

For my birthday I decided I wanted to go to Tramore with my family. So we brought Theo, our Jack Russel aswell. The waves were huge. It was terrifying. They were like the life-threatening ones you see in Hawaii.

So we got chips from Dooly's and sat on a wall happily eating them. We were watching a man play with his dog, throwing a plastic bottle. They were having great fun and it was lovely to watch.

The man was still grinning at us when the wave hit him.


He didn't see it at all.


His head bobbed out of the water a few times. Then nothing.


We sprang up, as did ten other people who were there. Someone got the nearest lifebuoy, but the rope attached was tangled up and people were wasting time untangling it.


Then, without thinking, I started running.


I ran halfway down the promenade to get another lifebuoy. But I'm not a fast runner. It was only when I stopped at the lifebuoy that I realised how tired I was. I started running again, but I was slower. Then a girl ran up to me. She held out her arms and I gave her the lifebuoy, then she started running. I ran back too.


Four men balanced on the wall, risking their lives to get the man in the water to grab the lifebuoy. My 
mother was screaming 'Someone hold those men! They're going to fall!' My dad was talking to 999.


The man was pulled out of the water. He was awake and conscious. Then the Gardai came and asked a lot of questions. An ambulance arrived eventually and took the man away. We left then, not knowing whether the man was going to be OK.

It wasn't one of my best birthdays.

But then we went to Waterford City, and there was an old-fashioned merry-go-round there, and I love old-fashioned merry-go-rounds! So I hopped on, and then we went home. That part was nice.

BUT THAT IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY! NO WAY!

That was Saturday, 14th November 2009. Flash forward to Wednesday, 22nd March 2010. At an English class. We were reading To Kill A Mockingbird and Boo Radley, in a fit of adrenaline, had just saved Scout and Jem from being murdered. Our teacher was talking about adrenaline like that, and how it can make you do stuff you'd never be able to do normally, giving an example of a man saving a child from a train on the London Underground a while ago. I put up my hand and started innocently talking about the man, and the day at Tramore, when I started sweating and shaking profusely, and I couldn't talk properly, and I didn't have any breath, and I felt really dizzy, and it was very scary and I didn't know what was happening or why. I'm getting a little dizzy typing this. That's one of the reasons why I copied the excerpt from an earlier post up there, so I wouldn't have to write it out again. That, and I wrote it only a few hours after, so the memories would be fresher and more clear.

I'm going to get some water. Back in a second. While I'm gone, you can watch this.



OK. I'm back.

Since then, I've been getting what I can only describe as panic attacks? I don't know what else to call them. I don't like it. It's very distressing.


Anyway, it's 23:59...

Damn. It wouldn't let me post at 23:59 because of some HTML errors, so now it's 00:05, which isn't as good. But still, I'm fifteen now.

The Girl Who Never Grew Up... And Danny Wallace

Apparently, I have reached my goal of eight followers. Hi Indigo! I hope you enjoy yourself here!
You know what, feck this! I'm not going to set anymore following goals or anything like that. If people are interested in Musings, then good for them. They have excellent taste.

So I'm reading a book called Friends Like These by Danny Wallace, who is a hilarious writer. I've already read Yes Man, which was turned into the Jim Carrey film with the pretty Zooey Deschanel. Personally, I prefer the book. Note: I've only seen twenty minutes of the film, so don't take my word for it.

So in Friends Like These, Danny is turning into a grown-up, almost thirty. He's recently married and has moved into a nice area of town, swapping pints down the pub for lattes and brunch. He's buying the sausage of the week (lamb, mint and apricot sausage, in case you were wondering) and is eating out in Latvian restaurants. But Danny feels there's something missing. Until he stumbles upon a black address book, filled with the names and addresses of his twelve best mates when he was a kid. And so, because that's the sort of thing Danny Wallace does, he tracks them all down to ask them 'Do you want to go out and play?' He travels all over the world to find his friends, and then he writes a book about his adventures. Which is lying on the bed beside me now as I type this.

I can identify with Danny easily. I know I'm not thirty yet, but I miss being a kid! I know I might be still a kid, but... you know, in my school, everybody's focusing all their energy on growing up way, way too fast. I just want to slow down. There's so much I haven't done.

Can I tell you something? The past week. That has been the very first time I've seen snow in all my fourteen years. My parents say it hasn't snowed since the 60's!

Interesting Experiences Part Aon

OK. I have three important things to tell you about:

Wait, make that four.

NUMBER ONE!!!!

Thursday night.

There is a publication in Kilkenny called the Rhyme Rag that is published every year, which contains poems by teenagers in Kilkenny. I entered it for the first time this year, and I got a poem in it!

Thursday was the launch night of Issue Five and I wore my best outfit. I was feeling excited and I was kicking ass!! And the editor, Adam Wyeth, mentioned me and my poem in his speech!!!!!!

Then we had to read out our poems and I was first! And I KICKED ASS!!!!!

That was one of the best nights of my life.

NUMBER TWO!!!!

Today.

I am fourteen years old today. I'm already starting to think of my thirteen year old self as way younger than me. God, I'm such a hyprocrite.

I got an iPod nano, a New Moon t-shirt, a Saw Doctors album, Night Of The Museum 2 on DVD, Little Big Planet of PS3, and other stuff. Sorry for the lack of info.

I think I'll have to do NUMBERS THREE and FOUR tomorrow, I have to go.

Fourteen

Sorry about the last post. I was trying to type this and... never mind.

So I'm fourteen years old tomorrow. It's weird. Fourteen seems so old. I can barely imagine myself fifteen. And that's in a year's time now. Strange, how time passes.

I have nothing organised to do for tomorrow. If I'm not careful it'll be like any other Saturday. Ugh. I love my Saturdays but I'm going to be fourteen for God's sake. I want the day to be special.

I might go to Tramore.