Highlighting what's important...

Earlier, was in Galway bus station, queuing for a ticket, smacking my lips and preparing to say “Student single to Dublin”... Then I changed my mind. I am now in Limerick. (Which is a bit of a surprise even to me)

I like it! Good to be home. Home-Home, not Dublin-Home.. Home-Home’s where the heating works, and the fridge is always full, and there’s a big tv, and a house phone, and a dog.. It’s where my room is. I love my room. I still have my Lion King curtains up, simply because I LOVE the strange red hue they throw on my (densely teddy-bear-populated) bedroom every morning... then there’s those kickass posters to remind me of my “crap” (ie. awesooome) early music tastes..

I spent the week in the Connemara Gaeltacht to improve my spoken Irish and… know the funniest part?
I spoke less Irish this week than ANY other week since… I dunno… September of last year? Apart from perhaps Christmas time, and the week I spent in Virginia this summer.

It’s only recently occurred to me that most of the friends I’ve made since coming to Dublin have, or are involved with, An Ghaeilge. I work trí Ghaeilge. I live in Irish-language accommodation. Most of the texts, calls, and about 30% of all emails I receive, are as Gaeilge. As for a base/home/comfort-zone community type thing? Rather than my college campus, it's that old madhouse on Harcourt street!

The hell..? If you’d told me Irish would become this big a part of my life two years ago, I’d have laughed in your face.

I pulled a Des Bishop before Des Bishop pulled a Des Bishop. True, I had the advantageous 13 years of groundwork (not that it counts for much) and, true, my tv series wouldn’t have been half as entertaining (being a far, far less successful comedian)… but I still can’t get my head around how far I’ve come.



I was thinking back… trying to figure out how it all started… how I went from grumbling about how annoying Irish "The School Subject" was, to raving about how vibrant and fascinating Irish "The Language" was.

Y’know what started it all?

A free highlighter!

It was societies sign up week in my first year in DIT. September 2006. And all the college societies were desperately pleading their case to new members – vying for the firsties’ attention – waving bags of freebies. Great buzz.

Anyway, I spot the free highlighters immediately. I love highlighters – cannot study without them. Pink is the first go-over, then yellow over the pink, so I know that the orangey bits are all I really need. Then I rewrite orangey bits onto new page, highlight, take out the orangey bits, and repeat until all I have left is one page full of mismatched words that make no sense to anyone else, but are all I need to glance at going into an exam. Each one stands for a whole paragraph - or a whole chapter, sometimes!

Anyway, these were great ones. Dual-headed! Pink and Yellow! AAAAGH!

Over I went, and I was assaulted by the most chirpy, friendly, and impossible-to-understand person I have ever met. Dazzled by her incomprehensible Donegal Irish, I took everything she handed me and hurried away.

Ended up really liking the Irish Soc (Cumann Gaelach - in fact, I'm now its Chair..) When they text me saying there was a “Léamh scripte” (or something) on, I was like, oh how nice! They’re going to read a script to me! :)

I turned up. Roomfull of actors. Not a word of English being spoken. And I was handed a script. Uh oh.

Despite not even understanding the title of the play, and not being able to pronounce a single one of my lines correctly, I was offered a small part – I looked the part, apparently! (I was told this, smiled dimly, half-memorised what was said, had someone translate later, and was THEN delighted.)

Weeks, then months, of rehearsing, and going to the pub afterwards, straining to get the gist of the conversation… most of the jokes went over my head… most of what I said made no sense and made me look like an idiot. But.. I gradually got better.

I’m thinking of doing one of the TEG (Teastas Eorpach na Gaeilge) exams to see exactly what my standard is at these days. I have no idea (it’s been so gradual and mostly hit and miss-style learning) but I’m told I’m quite good. And I speak it every day these days. As much (or perhaps more) than English.





I actually.. sincerely.. utterly.. undoubtedly... did NOT miss the fucking internet this week. They HAD a computer room. I was there once. That was plenty.
I felt like I’d woken up.

And now… I’m back online. And have just wasted an hournahalf on facebook/twitter/gmail/here.

Enough! I may just go for a walk.

What's in a dream?

Now,
I don’t believe in dream interpretation or similar hippy-crap, but I just woke up and would LOVE some opinions on last night’s mental dream.



I’m collecting money at the door to some event, that’s in some sort of weird run-down castle – but the background’s pixellated like an old N64 game… No. More like the first Tomb Raider for PC. The tickets I’m selling are bright, bright pink and people keep passing them around to let other people in.


The event’s like, a book launch – or, well, that’s how it started out... The guy running it was the cute bodhrán player from the gig last night – I think he was supposed to have wrote the book or something..?

I open the book and, for the first 3/4s of it, it’s a fairly normal-looking encyclopaedia-style book –about a fictional museum. Everything’s in it! All the fictional artefacts, the architecture of the building, the non-existent history of the building, even the people who work there and all the visitors. Big colourdy pictures – kinda like one of those children’s nature books. Know the ones I mean?

Then the last few pages are a play – set in the museum – but it doesn’t seem too interesting; it’s literally just about a bunch of weird character’s experience in the museum; taking a tour, stopping at the cafe, strolling round the bookshop, talking shite, in baaaadly attempted accents and costumes that were waaay over-the-top..

There was such a buzz that ALL my friends (from school, college, work) heard about it and arrived. Everyone decided to perform the play immediately (the book was such a smash) and no one would let me join in. My mum left early, so I took her book and started flicking through it while everyone got changed into their mad outfts. I’d no interest in it anyway – but I saw in the book that there was one particularly interesting artefact – a big freakin’ independence-day style alien in some sort of plastic restraint/display-box thing.

Oh yeah, at this point all the stuff was real. Dreams, eh?

So I run off to find it – how cool?! And everyone’s giving out and roarin’ at me ‘cos I’m supposed to be letting people in and the crowd’s getting bigger… but I don’t care! I finally find it and it’s the coolest thing ever. Not moving. Presumably dead. I just gawked at it, and someone (my brother/cousin? Don’t remember) suggests I “plug it in.” Low and behold there’s a remarkably normal-looking cable and plug coming out of the alien’s armoured wrist, and I plug him in to a conveniently close socket.

And then it comes to life and tries to kill everyone.
Actually, it only seems to be chasing me… no one else seems to notice and are goin’ about their business practicing the play and talking shite about how incredible it is. Whenever I pass any of them (fleeing from giant alien shooting lasers at me and making shit of the Tomb-Raider-y background) they shout after me “Hey! Get back on the door!” And I shouted back “I just have to sort this out first – gimme two minutes.”

Bodhrán boy is especially annoyed at me, and my friends who can’t get in – all glaring at me but no one helping, but that’s cool ‘cos if they helped the alien would see them (or so was my logic in the dream) – and it was me plugged it in. I was just like, fuck sake, can’t someone else let people in??

I woke up before I sorted the alien out.
*shrug*

Well?

Pizza, pjs agus neart deatach gan tine…

Is fada ó scríobh mé as Gaeilge anseo – bilingual intentions kinda gone out the window! Ach tá gaelspell agam ar mo ríomhaire anois. Class. So nílim chomh buartha faoi bhotúin (now it’s just the grammar I’ll fuck up!)
Cá’ll an leabhair “Ceart Litriú” when ya need it, eh?

Ní dheachaigh mé abhaile go Luimneach an deireadh seachtaine seo. I ndiaidh bheith chomh traochta t’réis an seachtain a bhí agam, shochraigh mé fanacht. Níor fhág mé an teach ach faoi dhó ó tháinig mé abhaile ar an Aoine! An cóisir aréir (iontach, ach ró-ólta… def earned a slagging, which i'll recieve Tuesday…), agus an t-aon uair eile a bhog mé óm chathaoir ná cúpla uair a chloig ó shin, nuair a phioc mé suas mo pizza ó Godfathers’ … (Níl sé níos saoire é a phiocadh suas, ach seo an dara huair in as many oícheanta gur fuaireas pizza. Mar sin, shiúl mé, so I wouldn’t feel as guilty/lazy!)

D’fhág mé ráiteas ar mo Facebook aréir a bhí… ait go leor…
Aoife says “Your move…”

Huh?! Aisteach or wha? N’fheadar ceard faoi a bhíos ag smaoineamh… ‘raibh sé dírithe ar duine áirithe? Gach seans go raibh. *shrugs* Though I CAN hazard a guess…

Bhí sé deas am a chaitheamh sa bhaile. Dublin-baile, I mean, not fíor-home. Tá rudaí stormy go leor thiar faoi láthair… agus nílim ag déanamh tagairt ar bith don aimsir… Bhí mé ann an deireadh seachtaine seo chaite. Bhí sé aisteach… gach éinne ag fanacht orm teacht abhaile le mo bhreithiúnas a fháil… Haha… well, not really… scéal fada… ach tá cineál ról agam sa chlann ó chailleadh mo seanmháthair cúpla bhliain ó shin, agus, táim sásta glacadh leis, agus tagann sé chugam go nádúrtha… fós… is mór an brú orm é in amantaí, ar nós i gcás an seachtain seo chaite. Ick. Messy situation.

Sílim gur chabhraigh mé go mór le mo chuid ionchur… Ach, is leor sin. (Ionchur – what a bullshit word! Chum mise focail nua coicís ó shin – Cathairdhreach! Cosúil le Tírdhreach? Cliste, no?)

Gach focail ar domhain – bhí ar duine éigin teacht suas leo. Táim i gcónaí ag lorg bealaí nua rudaí a rá as Gaeilge… Bíonn daoine ag gearrán faoi “béarlachas” agus rl. Céard fiú an bullshit sin? I ndáiríre – úsáideann muid ar fad focail agus nathanna ó teangacha eile agus muid ag labhairt Béarla – gach teanga ar domhain, bíonn tionchar ar teangacha eile orthu. Cén dochar? Is meán cumarsáid í an Ghaeilge, agus teanga ar bith, agus caithfidh tú í a úsáid i do bhealach féin. Déan do rud féin leí. Aimsíonn tú do ghuth féin nuair atá go leor den teanga foghlamtha agat, agus SIN líofacht, nuair’s féidir do pearsantacht a chur trasna! Má theastaíonn uait nathanna cainte a úsáid, agus muna bhfuil a leithéid ann sa Ghaeilge, fuck it! Úsáid é! Má caitheann daoine “like” nó “just” isteach ina gcuid Gaeilge ó am go chéile, cén dochar? Agus muid ag labhairt i mBéarla, ní ró-mhinic a bhímid buartha faoi cúrsaí gramadaí – agus níl éinne chun léimt ort má deirinn tú rud éigin nach bhfuil i gceart – tá’s againn nach scríobhaimis riamh mar sin é!
Pé scéal é… tá an obair ag dul go breá… Sin atáim a’ rá agus táim stickin’ to it!

Ach, go hionraic, is aoibhinn liom an stuif atá á dhéanamh agam faoi láthair – go háirithe an láithreoireacht raidió agus an scríbhneoireacht. Tá an t-ádh dearg orm bheith ag obair leis an legendary Dusty Rhodes chomh maith!

Táim ag moilliú síos go mór, áfach… ag cailliúint luas go ró-thapaigh agus ag coladh isteach go déanach sna maidine… leath den am, is mar gheall ar an obair san oíche a tharlaíonn sé… leath eile, mar gheall ar an easpa fuinneamh atá orm, agus an easpa muinín atá agam asam féin faoi láthair… Frustrated liom féin as bheith chomh distracted, agus unfocused is atáim. B’fhearr liom smacht a choinneal orm féin – ach ní bhímse faoi smacht agam riamh agus is mór an pian sa tóin é… (go háirithe agus mé i mo TOTAL control freak go nádúrtha..hehe..)

Táim tuirseach – can’t shake it off! Ach tiocfaidh an fuinnimh ar ais chugaim… seo an gnáth-rud domsa… An iomarca caffeine b’fhéidir!
Tá a lán ar m’intinn… táim buartha faoin crap atá ar siúl sa bhaile… Ach tá rud eile nach féidir liom stopadh ag smaoineamh faoi go háirithe – and it’s under my skin and it’s really getting irritating. Ní féidir liom ach… cur suas leis, is dóigh…

No – time to cop on. Seachas bheith ag suí agus ag déanamh mion-anailís ar gach rud, nó ag ligint nach gcuireann sé isteach orm, bheadh mé níos fearr as má thógaim aicsean éigin!
Ach céard?

Níl aon rud mícheart – níor tharla aon tubaiste – ach táim just… strussed! ‘s níl fhios agam céard ‘tá uaim. Ar a laghad, níl mórán am agam a thuilleadh le bheith ag smaoineamh faoi! :)

"We're ridiculous"

Yes we are.

Oooh, it's gonna hurt alright. No matter what we decide, whatever happens, it's going to hurt. I have some idea how much, too... so it's more than a little terrifying. But I've been thinking about it and I've decided - fuck it - it doesn't matter if it lasts a week, or a few weeks, or a few hundred weeks. Or even just a few more hours!
Even just one more hour like that would be...

Fuck!

How did this happen? How has everything changed?

I want.......... what do I want? Nnnnnngh I don't KNOW!!


No, I think I DO know what I want. "Think" is the wrongest of wrong words - I KNOW what I want!
I want whatever I can get.
No more. That's ok. More than ok! And even though I'm scared, I'm not feeling weird about it at all. It's petrifying - but it comes so easily too. Does that make sense? Anyway, no amount of nerves or uncertainty or time-restrictions can stop me enjoying it - all of it - every second until...
...


I go from wanting to throw up, to wanting to sing, to wanting to scream, to wanting to dance, to wanting to drink, to laughing at all the aforementioned madnesses.

To sum up: This is the BEST mistake I'll ever make.
:)

Games.. and changing my shoes..

Games games... I am sick of games. All we ever do is play games.

In relationships.. with our friends... The "says" feature on Facebook.. Facebook and bebo and Myspace in general... The way we dress, talk, walk! There's a motive to everything we do and say, every facial expression, everything. Every-bloody-thing! Be yourself? NO ONE is. People who claim they are always themselves (what-you-see-what-you-get etc); that's an image too! That take-me-or-leave-me, i-am-my-own-person act is an Act like any other. That's how they want to be seen.

How important is it to us to control how others' see us? How we "come across"? We all try to make impressions on people... Try to control them... Small moments like being reluctant to reach for the girlie magazine instead of the paper. The "phone voice" you put on. The voicemail message that you recorded, and re-recorded, and re-recorded.. 'till it sounded right. The clothes you chose for a job interview. The clothes you choose for a night out. The different "look" you go for.

I just threw this on. Yeah.

I had a conversation about that with some girlfriends of mine - About the chosing what to wear for a night out.

One girl always made a big effort.. because she likes to look well put-together, and it makes her feel confident (and the attention it gets her adds to her confidence even more..) Another girl said the reason behind the slightly rock-y edge to her look was that she wanted people to think she was smart (self-conscious about her slightly D4 accent and ditzyness meant she was scared to dye her hair any colour other than black for years)

Me? I had to think about it for a bit. I dress down most of the time. I'm more of an attention AVOIDER than an attention-seeker, and I'm happy to have my more done-up, glammed-up friends act as a buffer for the cheesy lines and chancers..! But, again, that's just how I WANT to seem, right? SOME guys, when "on the pull", see a girl all dressed-up and figure it means she's "on the pull" too (ugh. On the pull. I hate that expression.) The dressed-down friend? Ignored. Just the way I like it.

Well, that's an attitude I'm trying to change. For a long time, I've felt like I can't dress up! If I did, it was only ever around family, and friends. Compliments made me uncomfortable, but worst still were stares, sleazy comments.. and even being grabbed at... Nothing makes me angrier, and I was sick and tired of slapping or shouting at guys when all they'd then do is laugh... humiliating.. To the nastier ones (the Coppers-esque crowd) a girl who dresses up is ASKING to be leered at.

So I stopped dressing up.
How stupid is that??? How often do I claim I don't care what people think of me - how much of a LIAR I've been..

I have some LOVELY clothes that I spent good money on and I NEVER wear anymore. I've gone out to clubs in my runners more times than I can count. No more of that. No more hiding. I won't be young forever - I don't have the BEST figure in the world, but I like it, it's only a few years till it all starts to go wrong on me so I better make the most of it while I have it! In 10 years time I'll kick myself for not flaunting it.

WHen your mum gives out that you don't wear short skirts often enough, something funny's goin' on.

I've been making (slightly) more of an effort lately - just around friends, in safe places where I know people... y'know..? and, sure, that one guy was REALLY scary, that other one was SO annoying.... and that guy following me wasn't the coolest experience either..... but FUCK IT.

I like dressing up. I like dresses. I like feeling feminine and wearing heels and all those cute tops that are gathering dust deserve to see day/night light again! And hell, maybe I could take it as a compliment..... or... just pity the ignorant bastards.

Deireadh le Ré

Tá an Club chun dúnadh taobh istig de bhliain. Táimid ag druidim chun deireadh le Ré an Conartha ar 6 Sr. Fhearchair. Cé nach chreidim féin go foil é, tá sé fíor... :(

Fuair mé post (eile!) ann. Thosaigh mé Dé Luain ag obair taobh thiar den bar (Aisteach – cleachtaithe le bheith ar an taobh eile!) Bhí mé ag iaraidh níos mó am a chaitheamh ann sula nimionn sé…

Tá an “auction” le bheith ar siúl ar an 15ú la Iúl. Cé go mbeidh na daoine sna hoifigí thuas bogtha amach go háiteanna sealadacha gan rómhoill, ní bheidh an club dúnta láithreach. Tá daoine ag rá go bhfanfaidh sé ar oscailt go dtí am na Nollaig. Tá obair na hoifigi le leanúint ar aghaidh, ach ní thugann sé sin mórán sólás dúinn… domsa. Táim croíbhriste!!

Ní dóigh liom go bhfuil ‘fhios ag duine ar bith cé comh fhada is a mbeidh an club dúnta, imithe, marbh... 3 bhliaina? 10 mbliaina? Go deo? Thóg sé tamaill fada an áit a chur le chéile sa bhealach ina bhfuil sé anois… Tá cuma “charming” air, agus céard faoi na truscáin álainn? An bhfuil aon áit stóras ar fáil go dtí go bhfuil áit nua socraithe?

Tá neart luaidreáin ag eitilt thart… An mbeidh go leoir airgid chun an Ionad mhór nua seo a cheannach? I measc an fhaitíos ar fad faoin spealadh eacnamúil atá tar éis teacht ar an tír, an é seo an am is fearr le bogadh? An mbeidh an airgead céanna le fail ón rialtais? An gheobhaidh siad preighis mhaith don áit? Táim scanraithe, sin an méid... Táim cinnte go bhfuil fhios acu cad tá ar bun acu – tá an cuma orthu go bhfuil.

Thit mé i ngrá leis an cathair nuair a tháinig mé go Baile Átha Cliath dhá bhliain ó shin, ach ‘sé an conradh an áit is fearr liom sa cathair, agus sa tír! An méid de stair atá ag baint leis an áit .. Tá sé treascrach… Tá pictiúirí taobh thiar den barr ón tréimhse ina raibh an áit in úsáid mar banc Sinn Féin fadó. Is breá liom an fhoirgneamh í féin – na tolláin faoi Áras Móibhi; na sean-shimléir; na síleálacha airde... Tá draíocht éigin san áit, nach bhfuil? Gach uair a théim ann, agus é ciúin, suimhneach... breathnaím thart ag smaoineamh. Dearfainn go mbeadh na mballaí in ann an-chuid scéalta a insint! Samhlaigh é!

Idir óg agus aosta, is cuma sa chlub. Tá beagnach gach éinne cairdiúl, cainteach, ag baint sult as an cumarsáid trí mheán na Gaeilge le daoine leis an suim céanna. Gach éinne ag iarraidh ár dteanga a usáid, agus a chleachtadh. Cuireann sé Cheers i gcuimhne orm!

Bíonn sé ar nós go bhfuil tú tar éis éalú ón cathair ar feadh tréimhse. Uaireanta i mbliaina nuair a bhí rudaí ag éirí ró-deacair orm – an brú ag méadú agus an cathair gnóthach ag tabhairt tinneas cinn dhom – bhí mé comh sásta i ndiaigh cúpla uair a chloig a chaitheamh ann. Fiú nuair a bhí mé ag obair thuas staighre ag cabhrú ag an fáiltiú – tá aitmaisféir san áit nach gheobhfá in áit ar bith eile…

Bhí mé ag caint le fear amháin aréir atá ag teacht ann le daichead bhliain anúas… Tá daoine eile ann gach seachtain, bíonn na mic léinn ann gach Máirt… bhraitheann an-chuid daoine ar an áit. It’s one of a kind! Cheapas go mbeidh sé ann go deo. Actually, chun an fhírinne a rá, níor smaoinigh mé riamh ar sin. I suppose I took for granted that it’d always be there.

An grá atá agam don Gaeilge, thug an club dom é, agus na daoine a bhíonn ag crocadh thart ann. Chas mé le cairde iontach ann. Chonaic mé taobh do muintir BÁC, agus do Tír seo, nar fhaca mé riamh roimhe. Spreag sé mé agus anois sé mo bhrionglóid ná a bheith ag obair sna meáin cumáirsáide Gaeilge as seo amach i mo iriseóir, nó scríobhneoir. Gaeilge agus Béarla.

Chas mé le lucht Aisteoirí Bulfinn sa chonradh. D’fhoghlaim mé mo chuid gaeilge leo –agus aisteoireachta!

…ag cleachtadh drámaíochta, ag ól, ag caint, ag pleichíocht… ag cóisirí, ag ceiliúradh cibé rud… Is cuimhin liom an chéad oíche leo – an léamhscriopta. Oh holy God! Ní raibh mé ach cúpla mhí sa coláiste, agus ní raibh mé i mo Uachtarán an Cumann Gaelach ag an am sin, mise á rá leat!! Ní raibh mo chuid ghailge go han-mhaith (bhí sé HOPELESS) agus bhí mé go hIOMLÁN caillte! Hehe... Fiú nuair a fuair mé “grind” sa bhliain deireanach sa mheanscoil, ní fuair mé ach B2 nó rud éicint… Sa scoil, bhí Gaeilge ró-dheacair dhom. Nó, sin a cheap mé!

Bhíomar ag léimh an scriopt (well, bhí mé ag iarraigh – ag stopadh ag gach dara focail chun “sounding out” a dhéanamh leis… Náireach!) Níor thuig mé teideal an drama (let alone an chuid eile de!) Níor thuig mé rud ar bith a dúradh liom. Bhí mé ag cogar istig i cluas mo chara (What did he just say to me…?)

Fuair mé páirt – bhí an cuma ceart orm don charactar! D’fhás mo chuid Gaeilge go tapaigh – bhí mé tar éis léimt isteach sa “deep end” agus níorbh ann ach dhá rogha (“snámh” a roghnaigh mé!)

Oibríonn an tumoideachas. Fuair mé tumoideachas ó lucht Bulfinn, agus ó Club an Conartha. Is aoibhinn liom bheith ann leis an cumann gaelach (MO chumann anois! Sin cé comh fhada is a tháinig mé!)

Gan an conradh, níl fhios agam cá mbeadh mé anois. Beadh mo Gaeilge i bhfad níos laige – I bhfad ró lag le bheith dáiríre faoi obair sna méain Gaeilge. Ní bheadh an post seo agam san Acadamh Ríoga na hÉireann don Samhraidh. Ní bheidh mé ag dul go Inis Oirr an deireadh seachtaine seo chugainn go dtí an Tionól Gaeltachta (le cairde ón conradh AGUS Bulfinn!)

Go bunúsach….. sé mo phointe ná, d’athraigh an Conradh (agus an Club faoi) mo shaol.

Beidh sé deacair slán a rá leis an áit, y’know?

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

Setanta Murphy le Garret Keogh

"Setanta Murphy Part 1 - A Comedy In Which Nobody Dies"

Níor chaoinigh mé in amharclann riamh roimh sin ach, an Sathairn seo caite i Bewleys Cafe Theatre, bhí cupla deoir i mo shúile. Níor lean an léiriú ar aghaidh ach ar feadh daichead nóiméid nó mar sin de, ach ní fhaca mé dráma níos láidre nó níos cumhachtaí ná Setanta Murphy le fada agus bhí iontas orm go raibh sé in ann cur isteach orm comh mór sin. Is dóigh gur chur sé mo sheanmháthair i gcuimhne dom... Bean uasal a bhí inti... Cinnte... Agus í uaigneach ag druidim chun deireadh... Bhí a lán sniffles le chloisteáil ón lucht féachanna agus táim cinnte go raibh an cuid is mó dóibh ag smaoineamh ar duine áirithe comh maith!

Sa dráma, níorbh ann ach beirt charactair; Setanta é fhéin agus a sheanuncail. Bhí ar an seanfhear dul isteach i Nursing Home, agus dúirt sé: “It’s not what I expected at all. They’re all so old.” Agus é ceithre scór is deich mbliana d’aois é fhéin! Sé an radharc sin (an radharc dheireanach) an ceann is éafachtaí agus brónach sa dráma - dráma a bhí lighthearted go leoir taobh amuigh de sin. Gach uair eile ina raibh a chuid uaigneas á thaispáint dúirt an seanfhear rud éigin greannmhar, nó d’athraigh sé an ton i bhealach éigean, ach an uair seo bhí a chuid éadóchas comh láidir gur líon sé an amharclann bheag sin, agus bhog sé chuille duine a bhí istig ann. Bhí sé deacair breathnú air, fiú... agus na haisteoirí ag gol comh maith... Bhí eagla uafásach air roimh an áit - roimh an todhcaí sceirdiúil a bhí in ndán dó...

Sé seo an chéad oíche ina raibh an seanfhear chun fanacht san áit. Díreach landáilte, scanraithe, déistin air faoi stad an áit… Bhí an intercom ag rá go raibh ar cuairteoirí imeacht abhaile, ní raibh Setanta réigh chun fágail go foil, d’iarr súile an sheanfhear air: don’t go! Ach bhí an drama fineálta go deo – níor éirigh sé ró-maoithnach ar cor ar bith.

Bhí Setanta go han-mhaith. Luke Griffon a bhí sa pháirt. É ag caint leis fhéin don chuid is mó, agus ag samhlú é fhéin mar laoch. Chasamar lenár laoch agus é lasmuigh de doras an Nursing Home, agus tríd a chuid ramblings atá ar nós go bhfuil sé ag smaoineamh ós ard, fuair muid réamheolas éigin don scéal, agus don caractair Setanta agus an cineál duine a bhí ann. Sé Setanta an t-aon gaol atá fágtha ag an sheanfhear, ghlac sé an freagracht agus cé go bhfuil fustrachas air, déanann sé a chuid.

An-scríobhneoir é Garret Keogh, agus an-aisteoir é comh maith! Agus nílim just ag rá sin de bharr go bhfuil aithne agam air. Níl sé 90, obviously, ach bhí sé go hiomlán sochreidte agus rinne mé dearmad gur é fhéin a bhí ann (chabhraidh an feasóg bréagach le sin is dóigh!). Ar aon nós, I was blown away. Bhí an dialóg comh nádúrtha, ní chreidfeá é! Bhí nósanna agus tréithe éigsúla ag na charactair, bhí a bhfórsa bheatha féin acu, ar bhealach. Pearsantacht an-láidir a bhí ag an beirt acu, agus gné dhaonna nach fhéadfach cuma as an spéir, y’know? An argóint faoin radaitheoir a bhí briste, an comhrá ar an fón a d’fhéadfadh do chroí a bhriseadh... bhí an gaol eatharthu faoi straidhn uafásach agus bhí sé seo le chloistáil sa “banter” a bhí ag dul ar aghaidh, ach bhí teolaíocht idir an bheirt acu agus atrua ag Setanta don seanfhear agus bhí sin le feiceáil go soléire comh maith.

Níor chreid mé conas go raibh Garret in ann an réalachas seo a chruthú sna charachtair... Mar a tharlaíonn sé bhí an Seanuncail bunaithe ar a sheanuncail féin ar bhealach, agus thánaig an scéal as meascán de stair na teaghlach, eachtraí a tharla, agus ficsean. Suimiúil!

Déarfainn go mbíonn sé deacair ar daoine siad fhéin a shamlú ina tseandaoine... nó mar cuid de haoisghrúpa ar bith. Is furasta crá croí an charachtair a aithint i daoine áirithe a bhfuil aithne agam orthu. Thuig an lucht féachanna go ghortaíodh Setanta nuair a bhí air an seanfhear a thréigeadh san áit lofa sin.

Bhí an stáitse an-bheag, ní raibh ach prop nó dhó in usáid ag aon am amháin, ach ní raibh gá le aon rud eile. D’oibrigh an aisteoireacht agus an script le chéile, agus ní raibh rud ar bith eile ag teastáil...

Tá an “run” sin i Bewleys críochnaithe anois, ach tá Garret ag smaoineamh ar leath eile a scríobh (“Part 2”) agus a cur leis agus dráma lánfhada a dhéanamh as... Mollaim daoibh dul ag breathnú air. Corraitheach, greannmhar, an-thaitneamhach!

IFI Taispeántas Gearrscannáníochta

Cuireadh taispeántas gearrscannáníochta ar siúl ar an 19ú lá Feabhra san IFI i mBarra an Teampaill, Baile Átha Cliath. Líonadh gach suiocháin agus dhíoladh gach ticéid. Thug Alan Marr ón Bhord Scannán na hÉireann oráid roimh múcadh na soilse faoi scéimeanna nua atá bunnaithe acu, agus faoin milliún euro atá siad ag beartú do chomhlachtaí léirithe gearrscannáin sa bhliain 2008 .

Bhí ocht scannáin in iomlán, ach sheas an scannáin "Frankie" amach. Stiúirithe ag Darren Thompson, fuair sé an Gradam Absolut don Scannán Gaelach ab fhearr ag Féile Scannáin Corcaigh 2007.

Tá Frankie 15 bhliana d'aois agus ag súil le breith a linibh. Bíonn sé ag cleachtadh le babóg. Thréig a athair fhéin é ina hóige. Idir a bhlas láidir Bleá Cliathach, agus an tslí a insíonn sé an scéal go hionraic dúinn, faighimid pictúir den bhochtainis ina mhaireann sé.

Dhealraigh an scannán fíor-mhaith ón taobh amharcealaíon de. Tá radharc iontach ann le Frankie ina shuí ar tralaí i lár páirce, ag stanadh isteach i súille an bhabóig, tithe comhairle sa chúlra. Tá an chuma atá ar an aisteoir foirfe sa pháirt – súile caola, ach miongháire saonta.

Bhuaigh "An Créatúr", stiúirithe ag Peter Foot, Gradam an Lucht Féachanna ag an bhféile i gCorcaigh. Breathnaíonn an príomhcharactair siar ar a shaol, ach samhlaíonn sé é fhéin mar atá sé anois – fásta suas – sna radharcanna éigsúila. Níl a leithéid den scannán seo feicthe riamh. Caithfidh go raibh sé deacair ar an aisteoir ról an linibh a thógáil, agus d'éirigh le Robbie Sheehan bheith socreidte leis.

Tá sé lofa 'bheith ag breathnú ar breith an fhir fásta, leis an corda imleacáin agus gach rud eile le feicáil, agus scéal gruama atá ann – faigheann dreatháir Robbie lot inchinne. Ach casann an scéal go tobann tar éis barrchéim ollmhór agus d'fhagtar an lucht féachanna in iontas.