I remember laughing my arse off when ST put my name and ‘emo’ together and got ‘Ermo’.
More apt than I’d like though; I think emo is my default state.
Which can be distressing for friends who are also regular readers of my blog who have to ask me things like “You OK or not?”
The good news is that I’m pretty much recovered from my clinical depression. No more Prozac, therapy or suicide watches needed. Yes, I honestly am OK and I no longer feel that weariness with life that used to cloud my days.
The bad news, darlings, is that I am a regular waterworks. Sad movies make me cry. Sad songs make me cry. Old memories sometimes put me in a funk and every so often I throw myself a pity party of one where I will listen to the same song on repeat and bore everyone in my immediate vicinity.
I’m thin-skinned, skittish in crowds, have a disturbing tendency to morph from self-confident networker to sullen, brooding wallflower sometimes in the space of ten minutes. Ask Irene. She’s seen me talk IT education issues with MIMOS reps yet she also knows me as the blur woman who needed a whole year before she stopped getting lost in 1U.
But that doesn’t mean you need to handle me like fine china or that I’m going to threaten suicide if you say I look fat in my new dress. My sense of humour is very much intact and seriously, I really don’t take myself very seriously.
When I wouldn’t stop harping on about a certain bloke I was scarily obsessed over years back, a friend of mine told me bluntly that she didn’t want to hear me talk about him anymore. She knew that being frank would be the only way to get me to shut up. I love you, Dawn!
I guess if I had to reintroduce myself to the people who know me, it would go something like this:
Friend: ”Hi, I’m so-and-so.”
Me: “Hi, I’m complicated.”
My name is Erna. I emo a lot. About everything. But feel free to tell me to emo about something else when I emo about one subject too much.
At least emo will be more tolerable with variety, right? Right?
As you can tell, I’m also very deluded.