Burgled! (also hello hello, been a while, etc)

Nothing major stolen from me. I haven't much worth stealing, it seems... An unopened perfume/make-up gift set I'd just gotten that looked valuable, some electrical items.... And a hat. (Which I imagine was used to prevent leaving prints as it was tossed outside by my back door). My housemate, however, lost laptop, camera, etc... Poor guy.

Landlady got an earful (seeing as it was entirely her fault) and agreed to take a chunk off the rent to make up for the fact I've been (a) robbed and (b) essentially been homeless for a week and a half. BUT my window's now been fixed, and new more secure bars go up tomorrow. I may then feel comfortable staying here again. I miss my room, but couldn't very well expect to sleep soundly with my window hanging by one hinge and only a bike-lock between me and the burglar's return.

The gardai who came to have a look around and take fingerprints gave us one piece of advice: Move.

Evidence of rats (and human-rats) hanging around outside our back door, bad plumbing (filthy)... But mainly because we are so completely exposed at the back of the house. The bars will help make the place more "secure" but, 'though we won't have another break-in, they will hinder a speedy exit in case of fire (actually, they'll make it near impossible, but that's a worry for another time)

So, move I shall. Not right now, but soon enough.

But where to? This prime-positioned but grotty home of mine may be convenient for work and everything but, come late September, Northside may be a better location as I'll be spending most days of the week doing my new course.
Yes. After a year working aimlessly, I'm going back to school again. I.T. this time. Should be fun!

Why I.T.? It just happened that way... I finished my thesis, FYPs and all the related rubbish this time last year. Done. I then went into a kind of hibernation - working away, minimum wage, pretending the epiphany would strike any minute and/or I'd be poached from my shop and whisked away onto the first rung of the career ladder of my dreams. Any minute now...!

I just went to work and wasted the months away; daydreaming, but not doing. Once fed up with that, I started trawling through course after course online...
Masters, Post-grads... Even brand new BAs... Evening courses, Part-time courses, Internships, Everything. I even looked into the possibility of packing it all in and going back to study Art! (Which is what my very talented little sister is doing, despite the fact I was the more "arty" child...)

I don't envy her achievements and plans; I chose the path to here, and am happy with that. What I do envy, however, is her certainty. She knows what area is hers, and even where within it she'd like to get to. A talent I lack.

I decided against the art thing. I didn't want it badly enough first time around, and I don't fancy investing another, what, 3-4 years in something I'm just doing for the sake of a pre-teen whim I've long grown out of. Once upon a time, it was my "thing". Not anymore.

I looked at courses in publishing, media, script writing, editing, radio, tv production, and all sorts of semi-related crap. Most seemed interesting. None seemed right.

I then saw an article on a website praising conversion courses - the handy way to re-route your studies with a short, practical, graduate-only course.

*click*

I.T.? Hmm... ok... just to see...

*click*

When the page loaded up, a list of modules appeared. All were subjects I've often wondered about, always wanted to learn more about, but never did. All were covered in one, fabulous year. I sent the deposit away today. It's official.

As for moving? The bars will buy me some time. I've been asking myself whether I'm ready to move in with himself yet or not. The dust is settling here, slowly, and my room and home will be my room and home again soon enough. When I can think straight once again, I suspect it won't be a tough decision.

Let's hope I don't procrastinate long enough to burn to death, 'though.

Clumsy? Me?

After a nice new year's dinner with parents and couple of family friends, sitting around playing pictionary. (Cute!) I pour myself a glass of wine (my FIRST) and take a sip. Then it's our turn.

I reach for a pencil... and my elbow grazes my glass, making it wobble slightly.

Panicked, my cat-like reflexes kick in and I lunge to grab for it... swinging it off the table with the back of my hand. On my second attempt I sorta swing an upper-cut at it in mid-air, making it spin and splatter all over my sister, before it crashes to the ground.

Slick.
And I couldn't even blame the wine as I hadn't but a small sip drank.

I can only hope my reflexes are as quick if I'm ever attacked. I'll spot the villain wobbling out the corner of my eye, and have him dazed on the ground in seconds.

On the other hand...if a friend was ever to slip suddenly, say, and I end up back-handing and thwacking them in the face...that would be less helpful.

Yesterday

Late evening, I stepped outside work for a quick smoke in the peace, cold, dark... watching nothing of interest. I thought about how this was my last day being 21 - just hours to go - and smiled.

All I did yesterday was what I normally do. Sleep in; late and rushing. Messy hair. College. Lunch on the run. Hour of two in the pub with a friend I don't see enough of. Work. Make tea and coffee for bright-eyed foghlaimeoiri (oblivious to the putrid grudges and politics in the place), and serve them smilingly while sipping one of my thickest, soupiest coffees. Home to play Xbox with my housemate and a can or two. Out for "one" to "celebrate". Fast food. Had a look at my diary - deadlines, meetings... bullshit. Late to bed.

Fairly routine... dotted with plenty of solitary cigarettes - one of my favourite ways to break up any day. 3 minutes (almost to the second) to myself, my breathing, my nicotine.

Not the most special day to anyone else - but to me it was perfect.

All I wanted to do... was what I always do. On my last, lovely day being 21.

It gets overwhelming sometimes, but fuck it. I've got it pretty good.

Back to...everything! (and PICS!)

Spent the last few days at home, but back in Dublin as of yesterday morning when I ran straight from train to house to work (got a taxi from the station to within 5mins of my house when I got stuck behind the Lord Mayor, who decided to trundle down the road I needed... as slow as...the slowest coach EVER... so had to get out and run home, then run to work.)

Today wasn't tooo bad at work... but yesterday... Oh yesterday...

First day back after a holiday is aaawful. Even if it was only a few days. Going home isn't really a "holiday", I know, whatever, but it felt like one - I had TIME. Loads of time! And could do what I liked for a while. Besides - I hadn't been home since the first week of June.

Had fun though! Stayed with my cousins one night - few drinks, few laughs.
Had a couple friends over for some DVDs and a catch up - turned into a few cans, packs of crisps, a treck to a haunted house, and bad karaoke/dancing in Dave's living room (???)
Went on a mini road-trip to Clonmel to pick up my friend's NOT-apparently-robbed purse, and do a bit more socialising...

It was 90% fun. There was also a migraine (graaagh - but at least it's the Test Month, so it's good, right? Research purposes and all that -- suffer on!) and a few moments when I thought about quitting work and coming home to try be there for/sort out some stuff with my family - but sensibility and reality set it, so that urge passed. I don't think it's as bad as I'm afraid (read: convinced) it is - I'm sure it seems worse 'cos I'm away... or something... Besides - who knows if I could even DO any good?

Anyway, here's a selection of scenes from the trip home. The last one's a house that - apparently, I hear - was intended for India. But lies in a small town in Co. Limerick. Apparently, the contractor was a spa, and mixed up the plans, and the poor little aul' house that he was MEANT to build is in India somewhere.

Creeping up to the haunted house...


The "entrance" (no pics inside, unfortunately! Too busy freaking each other out - forgot about camera)


Spooky!


Old Schoolfriend/Future Housemate & me!


Out of India

More Fun-in-Sun Summer Tales

I had a mini-holiday in Germany 2 weeks ago, y’know! Did I mention that? I’ve been neglecting this poor bedraggled blog lately…

Wrangled ONE day off, (in between my usual two. 3 in a row = buy plane tickets!) Drinking on a work night out, followed by an all-night bday house party, followed by drunken mess in security, followed by missed flight, followed by drunken tears, followed by bus home, nap, bus back, NEW flight, and… FINALLY arrived! Ich bin ein Dortmunder!

Went to Dortmund to see some friends who are over on Erasmus there. It was fan-freakin’ tastic. I managed to see some sights, visit Dusseldorf and Köln, get myself a Curry Wurst (which I hadn’t had for 6 YEARS… and which didn’t taste as good as I remembered), do some shopping, eat some sushi (with novelty fish-shaped Soy sauce thingie!), fuck-up hair by ill-advisedly spraying deodorant in it (don’t ask), practice my German and re-learn stuff, taste (legal!?!) Poitín in an “Irish” bar (called Limericks!), taste waaatury Guinness in same, stay out all night at a mental metal(ish?) club that didn’t close, link arms doing Jager shots with a beautiful Russian…
All this in a day and a bit. (The final day was spent with a mean hangover-turned-day-long-migraine that was NOT fun to travel with) – and, turned out, the beautiful Russian had wanted to see me! *pout* Shame. Well, he’d’ve had some shock if he did. I was…less that “put together.”

I have another mini-holiday coming up – Bank holiday! That means Sunday and Tuesday off as usual….and… the shop’s closed Monday! HELL yeah.
I’m going to Limerick, lady! And it’s been far too long and I hope you all are ready for a homecoming to be remembered.





I miss my mam and dad most of all. They’re coming to Dublin Monday, ‘though. And the five of us are going to U2 together!
I must insist on more family (that’s ALL five pieces, please) outings/events/things... Since we all split up and went our own ways, we’ve made an effort – but not enough. I miss feeling like a solid family unit…thing.

The Summer So Far

I thought I’d be lonely and miserable this summer – the only one not going away; my friends mostly in Limerick/Cork; the one stuck in Dublin after (bizarrely) landing a job when no-one else could. (When I didn’t really even try...) But I’m having a blast. I have people. Great people. Just ‘cos they’re not around doesn’t mean I’m no longer the luckiest person alive. My friends and family are incredible. And they’ve visited me a LOT more often than I could have hoped since the summer started. Which is great. ‘Cos I haven’t gotten home since I started in Specsavers (two days off… but not together. Sunday and Tuesday. Crap? Yeah.)

The work crowd are great. Really a fab bunch. Never settled into a place so quickly in my life – school, jobs, whatever – never! Really clicked with a few of them. Good people. My kinda people.

And I have my Conradh family – my weird, extended, Gaeilge-labharing family...

A friend of mine said to me last night (as Gaeilge, but I’ll paraphrase in English here:) that he really respected my attitude: I work hard (maybe too hard) and take on too much, simply for fear of missing a single opportunity that comes my way. He said that some people (NORMAL people), when tired, accept their tiredness and take a break. I, however, swat it away and don’t consider it a hinderance (apparently). Then I seem surprised when I get exhausted and run-down – which he said was hilarious to him. And weird. But cool.


I just shrugged. I suppose it IS pretty funny. But I don’t see myself as that; a sort of stupid blind Energiser Bunny who, ‘though impressive, is bound to run out of steam and doesn’t know when to quit. I DO know when to quit. I just don’t want to. And don’t feel like I can.


It’s a pain I got a job, in some ways, but not in others. It’s a pain I have to work the other jobs – but I love them all.
“Keep interested in your own career, however humble. It is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.”
I’ll be out of college before I know it. And all my ideas and plans and great projects can wait a few more months. I have a LOT of ideas. Once I get my degree, unless I miraculously (irritatingly) land an ab fab job the very day I graduate, I am gonna start living for me and my dreams, man. And I am going to have earned every minute of it.


And I'm gonna see more of my fecking friends and family, dammit.

Moving Away

I'm 6. Or 7. I've got my hands pressed against the window of the car and I'm sobbing, and waving... and then I pull it together and close my eyes. It's an ok day. Weather-wise. All my soft toys are in one big huge box in the moving van, except for two which accompany me for the car-ride.

I met Chloe King on my first day of school. With the innocent confidence of one completely ignorant of cruelty, I bounded over to the first girl I saw, plonked myself down and introduced myself. Then on, we were inseparable.

I wrote to Chloe a lot when I moved away. Almost every day! Problem was, I'd usually forget to send the letters. Or else I'd decide against sending them; by the time they were in the envelope, they felt out of date, or I'd think of something else, and want to write a new one.

Then I'd forget to send that one, too.

We moved back a year and a half later - I was delighted. It didn't matter that I hadn't kept in touch. My new school had been weird. All girls. Most of them mean. I was so happy to be back! Stuff had changed, but not a lot.

A year later... we were off again. (thanks to my Dad's job) To Limerick.
It was starting to get easier, though. And I kept writing letters. Again...I mostly forgot to send them. So my friends mostly forgot me.

This last move, 'though, changed everything. And it didn't look like there'd be any moving out of here.

I hated it. Just when I joined the class (around 9 years old) another girl (who everyone had loved) had moved away... so I was not only the new girl, but the replacement. They had high hopes for me..(that I didn't exactly meet)

Then, someone decided they didn't like me. And that was the start of my warm welcome to Limerick that had me itching to get out of there...

To move again. The other times hadn't been so bad. I wasn't sure if it'd been me, or them, or the school, or the area, or WHAT the problem was - but there was definitely a problem. I didn't belong there. I never would. Even when I made some nice friends, fell in love...even knowing it's where my parents are... not good enough. It's not right for me and never was. I couldn't stay and couldn't explain why.

I moved to Dublin. To see. To start again.

's going ok. Still not right, 'though...not quite.

Whenever someone asks me where I'm from - I kinda stumble over the answer. What I wanna say is Galway, but I don't think I'm entitled...
I was born in Galway, but don't remember much, or have any friends or ties there, really. I left before I knew very much of what went on outside my housing estate.

And Limerick? Well, I lived there the longest. Even if I hated it, it's the most like home - purely 'cos I'm most familiar with the place.

I wrote about moving back to Galway before... and still think it's worth trying... but who's to say I won't be bitterly disappointed?

I think I turned my back on Limerick too quickly. I severed ties with a few very valuable people. In a few cases, there's no going back. That's NEVER good.

In Galway I had friends - it was easy! Because I was never the new girl. I was part of their world from the word go and more confident than most (because I didn't know any better back then..) I never had to build that community up... it was just there.

In Limerick, it took a long, long time to get a nice group together. People I could trust with my life, people I would do anything for.

Maybe, instead of wondering where I'll run to next... maybe I should stop forgetting to send those letters... return those calls... answer those texts... and make more time for the people I DO have... and make more of an effort to KEEP them.

I'm looking for that homely, comfortable, happy feeling in all the wrong places - haha - because I'm looking for it in PLACES.

If I have people, even if they're scattered all around the world, that's all there is to it.

Day Off

(To distract from the previous, irritatingly cryptic and off-putting post, I'm writing another!)

It's my day off! And last night was amazing, but there was no waking up drenched in vodka-flavoured sweat. In fact, I felt quite refreshed! And it's intermittently sunny/warm and cloudy, and I have all day! ALL day! I might go to penny's. Or sit online for a little longer.

Having no internet at home is a pain.

Life's good ,'though. Really, really good. My workmates are complete utter legends - psychos! A mad mix of Metallers, mentalers, migraneurs and gaelgoirs. I like this no-weekends work-style too - I get two days off a week, that seem to have settled now on Tues and Thurs and, 'though there mebbe a little more swapping 'round in future, I really like the current arrangement! Instead of being burnt-out on Friday, the breaks come just as I need them. And being rostered for Sunday means a half day! And having weekdays off means banks and other weekday-specific shit is your oyster.

I'll still be able to go home, once in a while... hopefully... (I don't actually know, to be honest..) But! Money money money! Save save save! It'll be so worth it. Really!

I have a plan.

I hadn't expected to like PS I Love You. Imagine my surprise when I loved it.

I'm home! Nice to be home.. went to a hurling match in Thurles with dad... sat out in the sun with mum for a few hours... ate lovely non-student food... laughed at my dog's darling antics... (she's a ball of fluff... she stares into the pond all day... whines and refuses to move after even short walks... when thirsty, she does this attention-seeky, "poor-me-look-what-I'm-reduced-to" thing of licking the floor and gazing sadly at you... etc)

House is odd without the cat. Poor Heidi.

And the siblings! But it's nice too.

..I needed time to think; to process, to unwind. I was squinting at a jet trail overhead when it hit me that I hadn't felt so relaxed in years. Years? I can't believe that. But it's true. I'm a strung-up stress-junkie who is losing interest (fast - i ngach rud) through sheer exhaustion.. (Not good) .... and who never has me time - except between 2 and 6am, maybe, and only at the expense of sleep.

Not on. It's just not on anymore. I work too much/hard/everything.

I need to think about it ALL. Get a life.



I applied for a job, and they're going to let me know Wednesday. Up until today, I was desperate to get it and get back to work.

Now (and maybe it was the lazy, hazy sun's influence, but...) I think I'll graciously say; "No."

This summer - the last summer before this daydream of college ends and reality strikes - I wanna do stuff I want to do.

Maybe I'll... ehm... Paint. Write. Sleep. Rest. Take up a class. Jog. Quit smoking. Re-learn piano... or German.... Maybe give grinds..?

Maybe I'll spend the whole summer spit-shining all those rusty friendships. I'd like that. Whenever I come back to Limerick I get different pangs for different people wherever I go..

As for money.. well.. Club's always there. It'd be tricky to stay in Dublin on that pay alone, but...
I have the bones of a plan. Or, the bones of a few plans, at least.

For now. I'm relaxed, and in no hurry to return to running solely on cigarettes, coke, a dwindling force of will, and stubborn, sleep-deprived energy. Why should I? I am not gonna waste another minute worrying about money. I will get by. I will NOT be an exhausted, over-worked wreck for money's sake anymore.




PS ...I am really, really getting into this Sky Digital menu screen music...

Deja Vu

My sister's graduation was last Thursday - she's officially finished secondary school (starting the Leaving Cert. in mere days - eep! I don't envy her that..)

It was... weird.

I went with my dad, because my mum was away on a trip she'd booked long before she knew the grads date. Doesn't it always work out that way? Anyway, I said I'd go - I wanted to. I've been dying to go back to that school for a long, long time.

And I had all these ideas in my head...
I was going to talk to my Irish teacher (who'd thought I wasn't great, but had potential) and tell him how much I'd learned and how involved in Saol na Gaeilge I was now, and how big a part of my life the language is now... how much I'd seen and heard and learnt... all my plans...

And I was gonna talk to my old English teacher, and tell him all about how journalism was going and thank him again for being such a huge inspiration.

And I was gonna talk to my old Art teacher, and tell him I've been neglecting my drawing etc. but that I'm getting back into it. And ask him how things were; that I'd heard he'd been ill.

And I was gonna talk to my old maths teacher - and thank him for scaring me off going to Art college. He probably saved me.

And I was gonna walk in with my head held high.

...

It didn't quite go like that.
It was really, really strange.

My sister's friends told her her dress was too "club-wear"-y, so I lent her one of my dresses.. and a handbag... and some shoes... and my jacket... and she walked out of the house looking EXACTLY like 18-year-old me. In fact... I remember wearing that dress to the year above me's grads...

As I walked in with my dad, my old principal (standing in the exact same spot, shepherding people the exact same direction) stopped me to ask what class I was in. I had a feeling he was just about to comment on the fact I was late, when he did a double-take and said, "Oh! Sorry. It's your sister."

At the ceremony, they read the same poem - Desiderata - that they'd read at mine. And, just like last time, I mouthed along - having memorised the words years ago. I was a little rustier this time.

The speeches were the very same kind of funny... students and teachers poking fun at each other with all the same jokes. Nothing much had changed... Jibes at the two young, spikey-haired, lads-lads teachers; "hedgehog one and hedgehog two, aka, Jack and Jones"... And, about getting suspiciously overdressed when heading out to the library...

The choir sang all the cheesy goodbye songs... The "talented" kids had their bitta the spotlight. The token (slightly rockerish) band played a set... No one paid attention as the trad soc played incredibly well... Two blatantly popular fellas butchered Galway Girl to riotous applause...

As 18-year-old me collected her little certificate and class bracelet thingie (clearly nervous, and just a little awkward in herself - I wished she knew how gorgeous she looked) Dad snapped away, commenting on how much easier it was to get a good shot this time, being so much closer.

And then there were refreshments - tea, coffee, and the exact same finger food. It was even laid out the same. I snubbed the sambos and made a beeline to where I felt the springrolls would be. There they were.

Whatever triumphant confidence I thought I'd feel...didn't happen. With my now blonde hair, and my glasses (which I wouldn't have been seen DEAD in back then), not ONE of my teachers recognised me in all the faces.

The students didn't know me. The teachers didn't know me. The parents didn't know me. The feeling was all too terribly familiar. I felt as invisible and lost and jittery as I had on my first day at school. Being in that place set a lot of old nerves singing...

I - eventually - got up the courage to approach my maths teacher. Gesturing to myself; "Aoife Ryan" sparked an excited recognition. He was delighted to see me! Full of questions and praise and, well, everything I'd expected! We had a great chat. And I spoke to one or two more teachers after that (each time having to introduce myself).

Though it kinda seemed so at first, I haven't been forgotten... I've just changed a lot. So much that I'm unrecognisable.

Which is exactly what I wanted.

I guess.

On the Red train.

I missed the last bus home (by AGES).
I missed the last train home (9pm) by minutes.
I proceeded to panic.
Aaaargh!

BUT my panic was wasted. There were two additional, slightly-later services loading! “Rugby Special” trains. This one left at 9.20pm, exclusively for Thurles and Limerick. It’s full of good-humoured (if mildly disappointed) Munster Fans. (But at least there’s an Irish team in the final. *nods*)

I think I’m the only plain-clothes person on the train. People are looking at me like I’m foreign. No one even sat next to me. (Well, my pile of bags and "I’m-Asleep" act may have deterred them…) I’m a Munster girl, though! I swear!

Know that Supermac’s in Heuston station? Usually empty. Tonight? Thronged. Supermac's is very much our thing. :)
I regret now that I turned my nose up at the queue – there’s a guy a few feet away with a chicken burger and it…smells… so… good… What I’d give for a Curry Chip ’n Cheese and a CanaCoke now! Ah well. I bought posh train-juice and an extortionate Freshways sandwich. I got funny looks for asking for Egg and Bacon, and, when they didn’t have that, Ham Salad. Fuck off. I like pig meat, and you’re an idiot.

I also heard a kid shout “Piggy!” when someone sneezed earlier. The swine flu thing’s getting tiresome. But ya can’t BUT laugh at the online buzz... Like Swineflu - The Game. ^_^

Anyway. Heuston station was dearg le daoine. Packed with Red jerseys with sloppy pints bein' waved around. But no-one annoying. No prominent assholes.

I’d much rather be on a Munster train home than a Leinster one.

I can never get my head around the chasm of a difference between Munster and Leinster Rugby. In Limerick, everyone likes Rugby. You just do. You don’t even need to LIKE Rugby to like Rugby. You don’t need to watch the match, even. (‘Though, it’s better craic if you do!) What’s not to like? Families, friends, strangers in the pub, schools, parishes, whatever; we all get behind the team. It’s always a mad and messy night out, and always good craic, and just a good buzz all ‘round.

And when they’ve got the big, BIG screen on O’Connel St… wow… It really is spectacular. The whole city just stops: everything revolves around this colossal projection and everyone’s laughing and cheering and jeering and biting their nails… It doesn’t matter what area you’re from, or who you are – you’re in Limerick and you’re in Red and everyone’s in it together. Whose idea was that big screen anyway?! It’s GREAT! At least once, everyone should experience being squashed into a crowd, watching a match, standing in the street… (sneakily sipping yer Cider can, and NOT climbing the lamp posts, please.)

Rugby’s a funny kind of relief for Limerick. It’s the one time where everyone’s on the same side. The snobby areas chill out, the dodginess dies down… The bad press gets Red-washed over for a while.

Then in Dublin it’s a cliquey statusy thing? I’ll never understand it.





(written on train, no Internet, forgot to post ‘till now, after getting home and watching half of Tropic Thunder.)

Today, I'm missing my old friends.

(And I haven't slept yet, so, by today, I mean Friday.)

I can't sleep. It's after 6am. I'm that eager to just be back at home. Even if it's just for a day and a bit. The first bus is at 7.30.

I always hated Limerick when I was "stuck" there; when I moved there from rose-coloured Galway... I looked forward to Dublin's new start so much.
Nothing's any different here.
I mean, yeah, things are good. Interesting, at least. But... dammit...

I've been looking for a job in Dublin. But I've only realised today that... well... I haven't been looking very hard. To be honest, part of me would LOVE if I didn't find anything, and ended up "stuck" in Limerick for the summer.



I found out today that a friend of mine is apparently engaged. Mad. It stung to have a complete randomer tell me - a jackass music-snob whose name I can't even remember - when I'm supposed to be.....
Well, I haven't heard from her in a long time.

I know she thinks I wouldn't approve - but that's not entirely fair. I would. Hell, I snuck them around for years! Despite thinking he was bad news, I did whatever I could to make her happy.

I wonder if that's why we haven't kept in touch... 'cos she thinks I won't understand.




TGInotFanymore.

Galway? :)

I can’t believe how much that week in Galway affected me. I’m still thinking about that week; last week. But not the nights out, not the classes, not the people I was with, not the funny moments - not even the WEEK… all that was fun, and very memorable etc… but all I can think about is the very last day.

We left Connemara and were dropped in Galway City on Friday to make our way home from there. And then I kinda accidentally lost everybody; heading off to check when my bus was, knowing the group was getting food, and then the train, together. I could’ve stretched to afford the train, but the bus was cheaper…

Also, I think after spending a week hanging out with people, a little self-company is pretty appealing… Ar aon nós, in the end, it was for the best because I decided to go to Limerick instead!

The bus wasn’t leaving for almost 2 hours.
So, laden down with bags (I am The Bag Lady – I always over-pack. It’s easier than deciding what to bring. I still never take the right stuff), I wandered the streets of Galway for a little while.

Here’s something weird – I was completely lost and don’t know my way around at all, but I kinda felt at home. I recognised little pieces (signs, shopfronts, funny micro-landmarks like confectionary stands – the odd, insignificant stuff a younger me remembered) here and there. More than anything, though, I recognised the vibe of the place. It felt comfortable. A better fit.

I barely even remember living in Galway, but I miss it. Is that mental?
… Probably a little.

When I moved to Limerick first, I hated it. I made friends (eventually) but I always hated it. I refused to say I was from Limerick. I was from Galway. My passport still said so. But I don’t still say so. After nearly a decade in the place, I stopped insisting I was from Galway, and instead set my sights on Dublin: new, big, busy, far away.

Anyway, I’ve decided I wanna live in Galway for a while. Not now – I have one more year left in my Journalism and Irish course. When I’m done, though, I’d like to look for a job – any job – there, and find a flat (on my own, or with randomers/students – don’t care) and just… see what it’s like. Start again. See what happens.

When I moved to Dublin, it was on my own. I wanna do the same again. Off to Galway, no plan, maybe sign up to some sort of something to have an excuse to go/opps to meet people once there, but I don’t really have a reason, or care what I do there. I feel like I want to go. And I’m gonna.

Maybe there’s a drawing course I can do? That sounds good. That’s my greatest love, and I’ve been ignoring it.
Why? ‘Cos I got scared away from pursuing it by someone who meant well and was right about everything else.

I don’t feel at home in Dublin, except in the Harcourt “Asylum”. And I don’t feel at home in Limerick, except in my parents’ house.

Maybe I won’t feel at home in Galway either, I wonder if it’s nothing more than a buncha rose-coloured kiddie memories… but the last time I did feel home-y was when I lived there, and an hour’na’half of wandering its streets last Friday was enough to make me think that it might still be possible to get that “home” feeling back.

I needed to get away from the exhausting, repetative schedule I've had for the last while and open my eyes. I'm glad I did.

Teehee..

I just realised - it's no longer Good Friday!

Sherry before bed, perhaps? ^_~

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.

I have till 4am.

Missed my bus and have to stay up to grab one at 4am. Grr.
For once there’s a point to me stayin up till 4!

And no, I can't just go to sleep and get up again - because I know me and I will NOT get up again.

So, hello blog. Fancy keeping me company while I wait?

Y'know… nightbus might be lovely. Dark, silence… the uninterrupted 3’na’bit hours of solitude that makes me look forward to the bus… bit of a nap, watch the sun come up… Nice.

The weekend was… nice. Limerick’s always a bit of a mental, rushed blur. So many people, so little time to see them – rarely get to spend REAL time with any of them. And usually spend most of my Limerick weekends asleep/braindead on couch thinking “my GOD I’m tired… more tea…”

I should try get home more often. Easier said than done, though.

I’m looking forward to the summer – to (hopefully) finding a full-time job in Limerick and re-acquainting myself with the less fair of my two cities.

I hated this place from the moment I moved here. I needed to go to Dublin on my own. I needed to get up, get out, and prove to myself that… well… I dunno.

I needed to prove myself to myself. Prove that I could do it – make a fresh start in a new city and not eff up. Prove all the crap when I moved here wasn’t my fault, but theirs. Prove I deserved better, and start new.

Is it any wonder I got hell in school? Moving to such a famously snobby area? Dickheads.

Escape!

And glittering Dublin was gonna change everything – full of opportunity and adventure. And that’s JUST what happened! And I love my new city – it’s everything I imagined, and more. But… I won’t claim I’m not tiring of it.

And, recently, I'm really starting to miss home - and fast approaching is the day when I can't pretend I live here anymore.


Y’know what I hate? Accidentally hitting “Insert”.


It’s been a nice weekend. Very little is left of all that “nonsense” that’s been going on for the past while. Few rumbles and glimpses of it here and there, but for the most part… All’s quiet… Thank God for that.
I know it’s not "fixed" – by no means is it over either. But it’s… settled. And that’s much easier on everyone than the crazed volatility I’ve come home to for months.

No one seems angry anymore. The space *she* created is doing everyone good – like I knew it would.

That’s a great thing about my family – we’re all quite hot-tempered… but it blows over quickly, and thoroughly. If you’d seen us today, you’d never know.

No, the anger has exhausted itself. I think we’re all a bit sadder, though. And I hate the house this… tidy… uncluttered… quiet.

Highlights of Weekend:
My first "foot bath" experience. I've always thought they were just for girlie girls. But it was heavenly and I don't care.

Movie nights - Friday and tonight - with Mam and Dad, with pizza and oceans of tea.

Free Guinness in the Old Quater Pub during the AMAZING Ireland v Wales match. My God. Best deal ever. No wonder I was hammered.

UNDEFEATED! GRAND SLAM! SIX NATIONS! AAAAAGH! I will remember that match as long as I live. Voice finally coming back - spent whole game roaring (espesh second half - fuck me!)

The food at R's dad's 50th - wow.

Chocolate Brownie - I was disappointed with the main course of today's mothers' day meal in Texas Steak House, but the desert was....*drool* (fyi - I'm NOT a picky eater. So, trust me, Lasagna must have been very, very bad for me not to eat it.)

PS - hope you enjoy strange scribble i added to post. Wanted to brighten it up with something. Couldn't think of shit. So! Tah-freakin'-dah.

Merry Christmas everyone!

It's Christmas morning. We've just torn the presents open and put the turkey in the oven, and have all run off to enjoy our new stuff - my sister is lazing around her room soaking in the fresh sound of her new cd, my dad's flicking through the fascinating, battered old Irish Digest that my sis picked up for him in a second-hand shop (it has the original short story on which The Quiet Man was based!), and I'm going to have a loooong shower with all the smelly new fancy schmancy seaweed-based stuff I got!

I know I was reluctant to get into the Christmas spirit this year, but I can't help feelin' it today. The table's laid with the good cloth and a cracker poised at the head of each placemat, ready to be snapped; the cat is nestled in a bed of crumpled wrapping paper; I've had about 20 cups of tea in as many minutes; the living room smells of tree and last night's fire and chocolate and the new perfume my mum got me that I HAD to test right away; my dad has filled the digital camera with photos of bleary-eyed, oversized kids in our pjamas opening our gifts; everyone's in good humour despite getting little sleep and being woken rudely by my cruel, excited sister setting off that damn dancing/singing turkey mum bought two years ago.

We've grown up, but we're still kids on Christmas morning - up early to dive under the tree, rip open our presents and squeal with delight. It's nice. It's wonderful, actually. It's Christmas. :)

Christmas?

Not this year. Please just go away.

I've always loved Christmas; I'm the one who sings along to all the cheesy songs, requests them in nightclubs, and when they're played as early as November, I'm usually delighted.

I've often started my Christmas shopping in January. Yes! 11 months in advance. I've often bought Christmas presents on holidays over the summer. I think about Christmas all year round. But I haven't done any shopping yet this year and I don't want to.

This year... fuck it. Just... fuck it. I'm not trying to make a statement, or do that annoying "i'm gonna pick a controversial opinion and go with it so i seem cool and unique" bullshit thing... I just don't feel like it this year. I've had enough of it.

It won't be the same. There's someone missing. Missing. Gone. There's a hole in my Christmas. Well, it's always been there, and it's grown from time to time, but it's just recently gotten bigger and I - and my family - can't bear this blow. Enough. I said enough three years ago... It's even MORE "enough" now...

And I am positively dreading next weekend. I'll be finished the semester in college, back at home for the holidays, and counting the days 'till new year.

New start, new year... bring it on... Hopefully it'll bring something good.