Well, clarity is probably, definitely, the wrong word... But I'm suddenly thinking differently - and seeing things... differently. It's weird. And I wonder will it last, or is it just shock. If it lasts... then... well, that's gonna be weird.
How much can a person take? Could it have been anyone? What happened? Of all the little things, which was the straw?
Which word was it? Which breath broke it? Which piece last fit... and finished him?
I can think of other people far more likely than him. And they'll live lovely long lives. (Please God) Wait, no! Not that they're LIKELY.. Jesus, no! ..but, at least, I could've made some sense of it... if... oh I dunno.
How can I keep doing what I'm doing when I can't bear to turn out like them? The vampiric scum with their gaunt faces and greedy eyes and their cameras bulging from their anoraks, snapping at us from the church gate... Straining to see over the crowd... Reading the latest, it's clear one or two had the nerve to come inside.
And I think about friends I've lost touch with - taking for granted that I'll never speak to them again. Shit, like - I'd kick myself if something happened to them and I'd left things as they were.... but will i do anything about it? Will they? No. That's not how it works. (I wish it was.)
People always say what a shame it is that we only seem to come together at funerals.
"It's ridiculous - we should organise something soon!"
But it doesn't happen.... 'Till someone else dies.
All the time people say Life is Short - people don't really let it sink in, 'though. Those are heavy words if you really listen to them.
Rrrrrrgh. Rough morning. Home. Bed. Enough already.
I'll do the college thing tomorrow.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Relief
So, as expected, the vultures had the church surrounded... and if there's a picture of the dirty look I gave them in the paper tomorrow, then, so be it... Damn those shameless fuckers.
But it'll be yesterday's news tomorrow, and the family can - hopefully - have some well-needed rest.
It's a shit of a thing to happen.
It's funny - until the priest said it today, I had COMPLETELY forgotten about the charity box at his 21st last year. How could I forget? Rather than presents, drinks, etc, all he wanted was for people to throw a few bob - a small donation - into a charity box by the door. Sweetheart.
Hearing people talk about him made me feel a little better. Especially that girl - who'd been talking to the girl in hospital - who'd said He wasn't himself. The person who came into the house was NOT him. And if SHE can say that, and forgive him, then... that settles it.
I'm not sure what to do with myself for the rest of the day. Home. Bed. I dunno. For now I'm online. There WAS a good reason - I'm sure of it - but, instead of whatever it was, I've been poking around Youtube, and googling news reports, and obsessing (and raging) about them, and generally wasting time.
Oh yeah, that was it; I was meant to check my college email.
But it'll be yesterday's news tomorrow, and the family can - hopefully - have some well-needed rest.
It's a shit of a thing to happen.
It's funny - until the priest said it today, I had COMPLETELY forgotten about the charity box at his 21st last year. How could I forget? Rather than presents, drinks, etc, all he wanted was for people to throw a few bob - a small donation - into a charity box by the door. Sweetheart.
Hearing people talk about him made me feel a little better. Especially that girl - who'd been talking to the girl in hospital - who'd said He wasn't himself. The person who came into the house was NOT him. And if SHE can say that, and forgive him, then... that settles it.
I'm not sure what to do with myself for the rest of the day. Home. Bed. I dunno. For now I'm online. There WAS a good reason - I'm sure of it - but, instead of whatever it was, I've been poking around Youtube, and googling news reports, and obsessing (and raging) about them, and generally wasting time.
Oh yeah, that was it; I was meant to check my college email.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Surreal
Life keeps getting weirder and weirder.
I've a funeral to go to on Thursday. I'm glad it's soon to be over and done with. Even gladder that the rota unexpectedly changed and I've the whole day off - and, therefore, don't have to give an explanation for something I'd rather not talk about.
When it's done and...laid to rest... the fucking papers may, finally, shut up about the whole incident.
Wishful thinking.
I don't really want to be a journalist anymore, to be honest. Not after the last few days' bullshit "reporting". Vultures. Soulless hounds. Vicious bastards.
I can't imagine what the families are going through. Reading that shit can't possibly make it any easier.
The whole city's talking about it. Everyone has their bullshit 2cents-worth to give. Everyone's an expert, a critic - everyone has an opinion.
But, I suppose, if I didn't know better, I'd gossip and coo and gasp about it too.
And, y'know, I genuinely doubt that (were I a clueless journo) I'd have written it any differently. In fact, I predicted it all - all the reports - the way it was handled and spun - almost word for word. That scares me.
This sort of thing usually happens to "other" people. Not real people. Not nice people. Not people you worked with and thought you knew.
RIP, a chara.
I've a funeral to go to on Thursday. I'm glad it's soon to be over and done with. Even gladder that the rota unexpectedly changed and I've the whole day off - and, therefore, don't have to give an explanation for something I'd rather not talk about.
When it's done and...laid to rest... the fucking papers may, finally, shut up about the whole incident.
Wishful thinking.
I don't really want to be a journalist anymore, to be honest. Not after the last few days' bullshit "reporting". Vultures. Soulless hounds. Vicious bastards.
I can't imagine what the families are going through. Reading that shit can't possibly make it any easier.
The whole city's talking about it. Everyone has their bullshit 2cents-worth to give. Everyone's an expert, a critic - everyone has an opinion.
But, I suppose, if I didn't know better, I'd gossip and coo and gasp about it too.
And, y'know, I genuinely doubt that (were I a clueless journo) I'd have written it any differently. In fact, I predicted it all - all the reports - the way it was handled and spun - almost word for word. That scares me.
This sort of thing usually happens to "other" people. Not real people. Not nice people. Not people you worked with and thought you knew.
RIP, a chara.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Btw..
I didn’t mention this (mainly because I forgot) but, the other night (with the haunted house and the antics in Dave’s living room), Helen* decided to have a little heart-to-heart with me.
Aoife, I’m drunk enough now to say this – I’m really sorry if I was mean to you in Primary School.
Err… shut your face! Ha. No, seriously, we don’t need to talk about it. Water – bridge – all that!
No but, I don’t really remember, but I know I was horrible – etc etc etc
She seemed a little ruffled and verging on upset.
I assured her - don’t worry about it! Honestly, of ALL of them, she was the least. All she did was what she had to do – going along with them. Unlike the rest, she was never actually cruel to me.
Like, even those who were, I couldn’t care less about, and wouldn’t even accept an apology from. Not because I’m angry – far from it! But because I genuinely don’t care – we were kids. I was the new girl, I wasn’t liked. But kids are cruel and kids are stupid because – whether or not they turn out to be bad people later– they have their reasons and/or they don’t know any better. They don’t think. I barely remember, anyway. I’ll admit I don’t wanna rush out and make best best friends with them or anything, but I don’t resent anyone. (Despite the odd little rant…)
It was good of her, I guess, and (though drunk) she insisted that, had she the mind she has now, she’d have acted differently. But, sure, we can all say that. We can say that the very day after something happens. We can say it mere MOMENTS after. We’d do it differently. That’s my point, 'though; that’s why she oughtn’t feel bad.
Which, btw, is something I should probably apply to myself.
I did things wrong too, ‘though. And I was just a kid. And kids are stupid. So I should forgive me like I’ve forgiven and forgotten them. It wasn’t MY fault, either.
But I kicked myself for years – convinced it was my fault: I moved to Limerick and was picked on and was convinced it would have been different if I’d acted differently. If I'd been different, I'd've been accepted - I told myself. So, I'll be different.
I’ve said this before – I was convinced that only by moving to Dublin could I prove to myself that, whatever I did wrong then, I wouldn’t do again. With the mind I have now. But that’s stupid for lots of reasons. One being that peoples’ opinion of you isn’t something you can control – no matter what front you adopt or what you say. Neither can you control how you’ll get on with each other – some people click, others don’t. (And some who click end up hating each other, and some who don’t end up loving each other) It’s not something you can control – and yet I fight that reality with everything I’ve got – I have for years!
After moving to Limerick, I learned to mask my real self. Trying (too hard) to come across as smart/bubbly/friendly/confident/cool/outgoing/whatever in varying company – never quite relaxing and never quite honest until truly comfortably with a person. When I would drop the act(s), I’d suddenly become very aware of the fact I was ”gone all quiet” – and I’d be so distracted by my lack of input that I’d almost be too busy (thinking of something to say) to listen to anyone else!
And if, naturally, I AM quiet and a little reserved, and shy away from the centre of attention, then so be it. But I don’t feel I am. I, for some reason, believe I need an act in order NOT to be… but I still don’t feel that’s me. It wasn’t before Limerick, anyway. But that was a long time ago. And I doubt I’m half as inept as I’ve convinced myself I am.
I don’t really know anymore, to be honest. Really, I think it’s ALL me. Rather than putting on a front, it’s that I'm putting a facet of myself forward… maybe? That’s a nice way to put it. And, at least, absolutely everyone does it.
“Be yourself”? Silly expression. I say, which one?? Personalities are changeable – you are who you are, added to who you want to be, multiplied by who you’re around.
Or...something!
*Fake name. Which is pointless. As the readers of this blog will either have never met her, or know exactly who I’m talking about.
Aoife, I’m drunk enough now to say this – I’m really sorry if I was mean to you in Primary School.
Err… shut your face! Ha. No, seriously, we don’t need to talk about it. Water – bridge – all that!
No but, I don’t really remember, but I know I was horrible – etc etc etc
She seemed a little ruffled and verging on upset.
I assured her - don’t worry about it! Honestly, of ALL of them, she was the least. All she did was what she had to do – going along with them. Unlike the rest, she was never actually cruel to me.
Like, even those who were, I couldn’t care less about, and wouldn’t even accept an apology from. Not because I’m angry – far from it! But because I genuinely don’t care – we were kids. I was the new girl, I wasn’t liked. But kids are cruel and kids are stupid because – whether or not they turn out to be bad people later– they have their reasons and/or they don’t know any better. They don’t think. I barely remember, anyway. I’ll admit I don’t wanna rush out and make best best friends with them or anything, but I don’t resent anyone. (Despite the odd little rant…)
It was good of her, I guess, and (though drunk) she insisted that, had she the mind she has now, she’d have acted differently. But, sure, we can all say that. We can say that the very day after something happens. We can say it mere MOMENTS after. We’d do it differently. That’s my point, 'though; that’s why she oughtn’t feel bad.
Which, btw, is something I should probably apply to myself.
I did things wrong too, ‘though. And I was just a kid. And kids are stupid. So I should forgive me like I’ve forgiven and forgotten them. It wasn’t MY fault, either.
But I kicked myself for years – convinced it was my fault: I moved to Limerick and was picked on and was convinced it would have been different if I’d acted differently. If I'd been different, I'd've been accepted - I told myself. So, I'll be different.
I’ve said this before – I was convinced that only by moving to Dublin could I prove to myself that, whatever I did wrong then, I wouldn’t do again. With the mind I have now. But that’s stupid for lots of reasons. One being that peoples’ opinion of you isn’t something you can control – no matter what front you adopt or what you say. Neither can you control how you’ll get on with each other – some people click, others don’t. (And some who click end up hating each other, and some who don’t end up loving each other) It’s not something you can control – and yet I fight that reality with everything I’ve got – I have for years!
After moving to Limerick, I learned to mask my real self. Trying (too hard) to come across as smart/bubbly/friendly/confident/cool/outgoing/whatever in varying company – never quite relaxing and never quite honest until truly comfortably with a person. When I would drop the act(s), I’d suddenly become very aware of the fact I was ”gone all quiet” – and I’d be so distracted by my lack of input that I’d almost be too busy (thinking of something to say) to listen to anyone else!
And if, naturally, I AM quiet and a little reserved, and shy away from the centre of attention, then so be it. But I don’t feel I am. I, for some reason, believe I need an act in order NOT to be… but I still don’t feel that’s me. It wasn’t before Limerick, anyway. But that was a long time ago. And I doubt I’m half as inept as I’ve convinced myself I am.
I don’t really know anymore, to be honest. Really, I think it’s ALL me. Rather than putting on a front, it’s that I'm putting a facet of myself forward… maybe? That’s a nice way to put it. And, at least, absolutely everyone does it.
“Be yourself”? Silly expression. I say, which one?? Personalities are changeable – you are who you are, added to who you want to be, multiplied by who you’re around.
Or...something!
*Fake name. Which is pointless. As the readers of this blog will either have never met her, or know exactly who I’m talking about.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
“Any boys on the scene?”
Honestly, what sort of question is that?
Although, to be fair, when there isn’t... it cuts down on the breadth of conversation a little bit.
Oh, there’s plenty else to chat/moan/boast/gossip/debate about… but little that’s quite as satisfying as a good bitch/ponder-out-loud/comparative discussion on the latest “interest”.
And at least, when there’s an “interest”, it’s usually pretty interesting.
And coupled-up folk can feel self-conscious if they catch themselves rambling on about their someone around singles - especially those with nothing to report. God knows why. It’s not like giving up smoking, when you’ll start craving a fix.
Still… that being the only downside, it’s not the worst, is it? :)
Although, to be fair, when there isn’t... it cuts down on the breadth of conversation a little bit.
Oh, there’s plenty else to chat/moan/boast/gossip/debate about… but little that’s quite as satisfying as a good bitch/ponder-out-loud/comparative discussion on the latest “interest”.
And at least, when there’s an “interest”, it’s usually pretty interesting.
And coupled-up folk can feel self-conscious if they catch themselves rambling on about their someone around singles - especially those with nothing to report. God knows why. It’s not like giving up smoking, when you’ll start craving a fix.
Still… that being the only downside, it’s not the worst, is it? :)
Thursday, August 06, 2009
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
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
Saturday, August 01, 2009
The Clinic
So, went to a specialised migraine clinic in Cork yesterday... results? Well... hopeful, I suppose.
It was interesting! He finally confirmed for me that my local GP is the eejit I thought he was (tried for years to convince me I had eye strain, and told me to wear my glasses etc... growl...) and the specialist didn't see me, but his assistant/partner fello (who had a very nice, well-chosen pair of specsavers glasses - Osiris, double bridge... obsessed? Me? No!) did. Now, I must say, he was very thorough and helpful. And he took me seriously... (refreshing! As I'm sure most migraine sufferers are sick to death of stupid sceptical doctors) and the only part of the consultation that pissed me off was when, before leaving the room to fetch the "Big Guy", this assistant/partner dude handed me a patronising information leaflet... and a freaking migraine diary. Another freaking migraine diary. I could have cried.
My mum had come with me on the bus and, on the way, I had ranted about how I didn't want to be fobbed off with yet ANOTHER diary. I've been dealing with these stupid things for 10 years now - I KNOW my triggers and I KNOW what to avoid, but what frustrated me more than anything is these damn diaries and information leaflets. Know your triggers, reduce your attacks. Fuck that. Easy for YOU to say! And triggers can be food, alcohol etc, and that's fair enough - but some of my major ones include sudden changes in the weather, irregular sleep, missed or delayed meals, stress, changes in routine (including HOLIDAYS! Yes! Holidays are a big trigger for most people. Even without the heat, altitude on the plane, missing sleep and meals, and drinking etc, just the simple fact that they are a sudden change in routine can be enough to knock you out with a headache for half your trip! BULLSHIT. So I can't do ANYTHING?!)
Sitting waiting for them to come back, I became nearly hysterical with fury - I am NOT going to live my life like a China Doll! YOU try avoiding stress - LIFE is stressful!
Imagine it! Afraid to drink, going to bed at a certain time every night, scheduling meals, never missing breakfast or ANY meal, or staying up late or going out dancing. I point blank REFUSE to live my life by these shitty rules. Yes, I'll get headaches, but - even if I did everything in my power to prevent them, I'd STILL GET THEM! These fucking headaches are a nuisance, and it sucks when I get one, but they WILL not RULE my life.
If this guy comes back in now and tells me to avoid my triggers and live more responsibly or whatever, I may in fact smack him.
But, the big bossman specialist came in... and before I had a chance to open my mouth, said something like;
"I'm sure you know your triggers by now, and this diary is simply to record the frequency of headaches - and to compare and see whether the medication we're going to put you on makes a difference. Regardless of how you live your life, you ARE a migraine sufferer, and will get headaches but, hopefully, we can reduce them."
So, my plan is to wait a month before starting on the preventatives, and record whatever happens... and then take them for 5 months... and come back with my findings.
Fine so! If it doesn't work, then, feck it. At least he doesn't expect me to live like a frail, delicate, sensible coward. That's the biggest relief of all.
On break at work at mo, so best be getting back!
It was interesting! He finally confirmed for me that my local GP is the eejit I thought he was (tried for years to convince me I had eye strain, and told me to wear my glasses etc... growl...) and the specialist didn't see me, but his assistant/partner fello (who had a very nice, well-chosen pair of specsavers glasses - Osiris, double bridge... obsessed? Me? No!) did. Now, I must say, he was very thorough and helpful. And he took me seriously... (refreshing! As I'm sure most migraine sufferers are sick to death of stupid sceptical doctors) and the only part of the consultation that pissed me off was when, before leaving the room to fetch the "Big Guy", this assistant/partner dude handed me a patronising information leaflet... and a freaking migraine diary. Another freaking migraine diary. I could have cried.
My mum had come with me on the bus and, on the way, I had ranted about how I didn't want to be fobbed off with yet ANOTHER diary. I've been dealing with these stupid things for 10 years now - I KNOW my triggers and I KNOW what to avoid, but what frustrated me more than anything is these damn diaries and information leaflets. Know your triggers, reduce your attacks. Fuck that. Easy for YOU to say! And triggers can be food, alcohol etc, and that's fair enough - but some of my major ones include sudden changes in the weather, irregular sleep, missed or delayed meals, stress, changes in routine (including HOLIDAYS! Yes! Holidays are a big trigger for most people. Even without the heat, altitude on the plane, missing sleep and meals, and drinking etc, just the simple fact that they are a sudden change in routine can be enough to knock you out with a headache for half your trip! BULLSHIT. So I can't do ANYTHING?!)
Sitting waiting for them to come back, I became nearly hysterical with fury - I am NOT going to live my life like a China Doll! YOU try avoiding stress - LIFE is stressful!
Imagine it! Afraid to drink, going to bed at a certain time every night, scheduling meals, never missing breakfast or ANY meal, or staying up late or going out dancing. I point blank REFUSE to live my life by these shitty rules. Yes, I'll get headaches, but - even if I did everything in my power to prevent them, I'd STILL GET THEM! These fucking headaches are a nuisance, and it sucks when I get one, but they WILL not RULE my life.
If this guy comes back in now and tells me to avoid my triggers and live more responsibly or whatever, I may in fact smack him.
But, the big bossman specialist came in... and before I had a chance to open my mouth, said something like;
"I'm sure you know your triggers by now, and this diary is simply to record the frequency of headaches - and to compare and see whether the medication we're going to put you on makes a difference. Regardless of how you live your life, you ARE a migraine sufferer, and will get headaches but, hopefully, we can reduce them."
So, my plan is to wait a month before starting on the preventatives, and record whatever happens... and then take them for 5 months... and come back with my findings.
Fine so! If it doesn't work, then, feck it. At least he doesn't expect me to live like a frail, delicate, sensible coward. That's the biggest relief of all.
On break at work at mo, so best be getting back!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
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!?!) PoitÃn 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.
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!?!) PoitÃn 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.
Friday, July 24, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Haircut!
Since dying my hair brown, I've taken a new inerest in the thing. For a long time I've taken no care of it, whatsoever (as evidenced by the ratty ends, fluffy condition, and odd limbo-"style" that's neither curly, straight, or even wavy, to be honest...)
So, I'm getting it cut today! In fact, I'll keep this brief or I'll be late for my appointment.
Chopping off the green-ish ends (not exactly punk-rock green, and my friends tell me I'm imagining it, but there's a sheen off of it that simply MUST go) - that'll make it look like it's in better condition, it'll be less heavy and lank, and, the colour'll look fresher!
Gettin' a wash and blowdry - though hate the way they always flatten it - all straight and dull. I am not a straight-hair girl!
Yikes, I'm officially gonna be late now - bbl! (...perhaps with a new fringe! Gasp!)
So, I'm getting it cut today! In fact, I'll keep this brief or I'll be late for my appointment.
Chopping off the green-ish ends (not exactly punk-rock green, and my friends tell me I'm imagining it, but there's a sheen off of it that simply MUST go) - that'll make it look like it's in better condition, it'll be less heavy and lank, and, the colour'll look fresher!
Gettin' a wash and blowdry - though hate the way they always flatten it - all straight and dull. I am not a straight-hair girl!
Yikes, I'm officially gonna be late now - bbl! (...perhaps with a new fringe! Gasp!)
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
RE: "Interesting"
That post there a few posts ago - I changed my mind. It'd be pretty unfair to meet up with him when I'm so...blatantly not interested. Shame. I want to be, but can see where it's going and don't like it.
Most posts on here, I've regretted the second I've written them. With an attitude like that, you may think I shouldn't have a blog - but that's exactly the reason why I have one...
...To tap away in an internet cafe and get all the rambling crap out of my head and into the e-abyss. :P
Most posts on here, I've regretted the second I've written them. With an attitude like that, you may think I shouldn't have a blog - but that's exactly the reason why I have one...
...To tap away in an internet cafe and get all the rambling crap out of my head and into the e-abyss. :P
Rather than respond to that irritating email...
... I said I'd write a post! Don't worry - I haven't given a thought to what it'll be about, so it'll be as here-and-there and rambly as any of mine. Yay.
Saw someone walking down Grafton St with the hoodie we designed for our society. My logo, C's design; awesome! Turned my mood around - bigtime!
Stressy day at work. Very, very tired. Regret staying late in the Mezz last night - but, hell, that band were pretty effin' brilliant.
Bought some CDs - wooo!
I love where I work. It's so bizarre working somewhere where I was so often a customer, seeing the inner-workings of it all, working alongside the people who fitted me for my glasses a year ago, going downstairs and barging through the staff-only door I'd always wondered at, getting better eye-related advice and understanding than I'd've ever got as a customer... I'd've never known to ask! It's fascinating. I work with a cool group of people too.
I get too involved with some of the customers, though. One time, I was so adamant that there MUST be something I could do to help someone, that I ended up pissing them off. I tried one idea, it didn't work. I tried another - failed. Again and again, all the while, the person's hopes are roller-coaster-ing and he's getting (understandably) irritated... I eventually give up - having been told by a superior that there was no point, nothing we can do, etc. And he FLIPPED. But can you blame him? If I'd listened to my supervisor in the first place, instead of desperately exhausting every option... if I'd made less of an effort... and said straight out: "Nah, sorry man" .. then it'd have been a much smaller deal..! Ah well. I tried. Even if I did drive the poor guy demented.
Helping people's great though, when it works out. Fixing glasses is the best bit - they're (usually) always so grateful.
There's worse ways I could be spending my summer.
And I know I haven't been updating the blog much, except with weirdy, not-well-thought-out stuff here and there. I've no internet at home, and little time, and too much going on. And that's not such a bad thing!
Oh, and I dyed my hair brown Sunday night. I'm kicking myself at not doing it before now. It's the darkest it's been since I was about 13 (it's been varying shades of light brown, red, purple.. and, finally, 2 years of blonde) - and I adore it. Even if it IS taking some getting used to.
My parents are gonna load into the car, with my sis and brother, and troop up to Dublin this Sunday - to take me to dinner as a combined Bday dinner for Rob and my dad, and a treat for lonely, far-away me. I am so, so excited about it - disproportionately, maybe! But... y'know, it's the best news I could've possibly ever, ever gotten right now. I can't think of anything I'd rather do.
Saw someone walking down Grafton St with the hoodie we designed for our society. My logo, C's design; awesome! Turned my mood around - bigtime!
Stressy day at work. Very, very tired. Regret staying late in the Mezz last night - but, hell, that band were pretty effin' brilliant.
Bought some CDs - wooo!
I love where I work. It's so bizarre working somewhere where I was so often a customer, seeing the inner-workings of it all, working alongside the people who fitted me for my glasses a year ago, going downstairs and barging through the staff-only door I'd always wondered at, getting better eye-related advice and understanding than I'd've ever got as a customer... I'd've never known to ask! It's fascinating. I work with a cool group of people too.
I get too involved with some of the customers, though. One time, I was so adamant that there MUST be something I could do to help someone, that I ended up pissing them off. I tried one idea, it didn't work. I tried another - failed. Again and again, all the while, the person's hopes are roller-coaster-ing and he's getting (understandably) irritated... I eventually give up - having been told by a superior that there was no point, nothing we can do, etc. And he FLIPPED. But can you blame him? If I'd listened to my supervisor in the first place, instead of desperately exhausting every option... if I'd made less of an effort... and said straight out: "Nah, sorry man" .. then it'd have been a much smaller deal..! Ah well. I tried. Even if I did drive the poor guy demented.
Helping people's great though, when it works out. Fixing glasses is the best bit - they're (usually) always so grateful.
There's worse ways I could be spending my summer.
And I know I haven't been updating the blog much, except with weirdy, not-well-thought-out stuff here and there. I've no internet at home, and little time, and too much going on. And that's not such a bad thing!
Oh, and I dyed my hair brown Sunday night. I'm kicking myself at not doing it before now. It's the darkest it's been since I was about 13 (it's been varying shades of light brown, red, purple.. and, finally, 2 years of blonde) - and I adore it. Even if it IS taking some getting used to.
My parents are gonna load into the car, with my sis and brother, and troop up to Dublin this Sunday - to take me to dinner as a combined Bday dinner for Rob and my dad, and a treat for lonely, far-away me. I am so, so excited about it - disproportionately, maybe! But... y'know, it's the best news I could've possibly ever, ever gotten right now. I can't think of anything I'd rather do.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Fucking "Feelings". They ruin everything.
I’ve fallen out with three of the people I respect most in the world. Well, not so much fallen-out… “Lost”, more like… as in, Friendship Over. And I don’t mean recently (though one was recent enough, but a long time coming) but, rather, over the last few years.
And it’s the greatest shame when it happens. There’s a grief to losing someone from your life; whether they’re still alive or not doesn’t ease the pang. Part of life, I guess. “As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons” is easier said than done.
The first two helped me regain myself. The falling out, and fallout, may have been ugly, but I owe everything to them. Well… a lot. They helped me to cop on and remember who I was – all the while helping me to be better. I worry about both; one to a greater extent than the other, each because of their respective, fatal flaws that hold them back, unbeknownst to them. I think they’re perfect, though. As close as people get. I think about them both all the time. I still text them the odd time; more and more infrequently until it’s barely once a year, praying for a friendly response and an invite for a coffee/pint. Not likely. She’s still too angry; the grudge-holding type. And he’s in another world… and won’t be coming out of it, I don’t think.
The third caused me more harm than good. And I don’t say that in retrospect alone; I knew it all along. But how can you help it? When you think so highly of someone? It’s a pain, the bullshit that comes into it…. Attraction, distrust, secrecy, suspicion, dishonesty, insensitivity, alcohol, bitching, miscommunication, taking one another for granted… People are never just people with each other – there’s always all these stupid issues, beliefs, fears and feelings that warp and ruin and complicate everything. Bullshit.
But the rest makes it irresistible; the company… the occasional, glistening understanding… the relief that someone almost “gets” it… their voice and opinions, music and jokes and sense of fun… That’s what you miss. That’s what you remember. God, she was so much fun! And he could have done ANYTHING with that mind and that talent – the best musician I’ve ever heard.
Well, that’s what I remember. And the aforementioned bullshit is forgotten in an instant, as far as I’m concerned, when you bump into them for the first time in ages… You just wanna dig inside their head and know everything about them, and how they’re getting on, now. You’re dying to just grab them in a big hug and squeeze really tight and hope to God it never happened. But you don’t. ‘Cos you can’t. ‘Cos it did.
And, with any of them, I’d love a clean slate. Start over. I’d love the chance to meet again for the first time… Erasing those wretched stains that sour a well-lived-in friendship. I kinda had that op with the third person I mentioned... But, not really... Just as doomed as last time, with obstructive, underlying grudges on top of it. And pride. Pride can be poison. Christ, there’s still so many things that make me so, so angry to think about. The fact that he’s angry, for example, over something tiny that I don’t even remember doing. The NERVE. After all I put up with, and over something so stupid?
I made few complaints, tried to understand, pretended it didn’t bother me when he (seemingly) didn’t give a shit, and he’s in a huff with me? He can stay in it. Friendship Over? Fine. I’ve done enough to try sustain it. I’m done making an effort, doing little favours, actively BEING a friend. He wasn’t a friend to me. One time he WAS really there for me – but that was more out of coincidence than anything else. And he told me later that I’d been melodramatic. Nice. Ok, no, it’s not fair to say he wasn’t a friend to me – a few times, a little bit, he really was.
It’s not like I could call him for a vent or a chat or anything, ever. Well, I could, but the idea makes me uncomfortable. Squirming at the thought! He has an incredible talent for making “Hey” or “What’s the craic?” sound like “Is there a particular reason you’re bothering me and can we make this quick?” I could never tell if it was intentional or not.
But. Anyway. Like I said; that’s not the bit I like to care about. How important is it? I may be angry, but I still hate the idea of losing touch. I just wanna be friends. I just wanna know how the exams went. I wanna wish him well. I wanna say goodbye. ‘Though… keeping in touch is not my call. It has to be up to him. Why? ‘Cos any effort from ME to get in contact would probably be seen as attention-seeking, so-called “clingy”, behaviour in his head… And he wouldn’t respond anyway.
I’ve never had a friend I was so afraid talking to – sitting in Bewleys, biting my tongue, watching my every word. The hell?! It was the weirdest “friendship” I ever had. His critical eyes terrified me by the end. But, that Valentines, and those first few late nights this time round (before he said all that shite and changed everything; before issues, beliefs, fears and feelings interfered)… Those nights and chats were something else…
And I’ve heard nothing from him since that awful morning… when, despite my put-on cheerfulness, I had a lump in my throat going up Grafton St. Same as last time. Perfectly reasonable, in his head, I’m sure. I’d like to be able to say I trusted him and was surprised, but that’d be a lie. I knew it would happen (no wonder I couldn’t sleep). I was prepared. But, y’know what, I had still really hoped I was wrong and it still fucking hurt when he was finished we me - when we just suddenly weren't friends anymore. It hurts. Which is weird, 'cos I'd never admit it. Not after the fool I made of myself last time. And if the ONLY way I’ve slipped up and SHOWN that was one drunk, pathetic text message, and this blog post , then I think I’m doin’ pretty fucking well.
Issues, beliefs, fears and fucking feelings can rot friendships… You can’t ever really wipe those niggling things out. And they make it so hard to stay in touch. Why make the effort? Why not just convince yourself you never cared and move on? There’s plenty more people around who you care about less… and, thus, hate less. So you’ll go for coffee with them. And it’ll be just lovely.
And it’s the greatest shame when it happens. There’s a grief to losing someone from your life; whether they’re still alive or not doesn’t ease the pang. Part of life, I guess. “As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons” is easier said than done.
The first two helped me regain myself. The falling out, and fallout, may have been ugly, but I owe everything to them. Well… a lot. They helped me to cop on and remember who I was – all the while helping me to be better. I worry about both; one to a greater extent than the other, each because of their respective, fatal flaws that hold them back, unbeknownst to them. I think they’re perfect, though. As close as people get. I think about them both all the time. I still text them the odd time; more and more infrequently until it’s barely once a year, praying for a friendly response and an invite for a coffee/pint. Not likely. She’s still too angry; the grudge-holding type. And he’s in another world… and won’t be coming out of it, I don’t think.
The third caused me more harm than good. And I don’t say that in retrospect alone; I knew it all along. But how can you help it? When you think so highly of someone? It’s a pain, the bullshit that comes into it…. Attraction, distrust, secrecy, suspicion, dishonesty, insensitivity, alcohol, bitching, miscommunication, taking one another for granted… People are never just people with each other – there’s always all these stupid issues, beliefs, fears and feelings that warp and ruin and complicate everything. Bullshit.
But the rest makes it irresistible; the company… the occasional, glistening understanding… the relief that someone almost “gets” it… their voice and opinions, music and jokes and sense of fun… That’s what you miss. That’s what you remember. God, she was so much fun! And he could have done ANYTHING with that mind and that talent – the best musician I’ve ever heard.
Well, that’s what I remember. And the aforementioned bullshit is forgotten in an instant, as far as I’m concerned, when you bump into them for the first time in ages… You just wanna dig inside their head and know everything about them, and how they’re getting on, now. You’re dying to just grab them in a big hug and squeeze really tight and hope to God it never happened. But you don’t. ‘Cos you can’t. ‘Cos it did.And, with any of them, I’d love a clean slate. Start over. I’d love the chance to meet again for the first time… Erasing those wretched stains that sour a well-lived-in friendship. I kinda had that op with the third person I mentioned... But, not really... Just as doomed as last time, with obstructive, underlying grudges on top of it. And pride. Pride can be poison. Christ, there’s still so many things that make me so, so angry to think about. The fact that he’s angry, for example, over something tiny that I don’t even remember doing. The NERVE. After all I put up with, and over something so stupid?
I made few complaints, tried to understand, pretended it didn’t bother me when he (seemingly) didn’t give a shit, and he’s in a huff with me? He can stay in it. Friendship Over? Fine. I’ve done enough to try sustain it. I’m done making an effort, doing little favours, actively BEING a friend. He wasn’t a friend to me. One time he WAS really there for me – but that was more out of coincidence than anything else. And he told me later that I’d been melodramatic. Nice. Ok, no, it’s not fair to say he wasn’t a friend to me – a few times, a little bit, he really was.
It’s not like I could call him for a vent or a chat or anything, ever. Well, I could, but the idea makes me uncomfortable. Squirming at the thought! He has an incredible talent for making “Hey” or “What’s the craic?” sound like “Is there a particular reason you’re bothering me and can we make this quick?” I could never tell if it was intentional or not.
But. Anyway. Like I said; that’s not the bit I like to care about. How important is it? I may be angry, but I still hate the idea of losing touch. I just wanna be friends. I just wanna know how the exams went. I wanna wish him well. I wanna say goodbye. ‘Though… keeping in touch is not my call. It has to be up to him. Why? ‘Cos any effort from ME to get in contact would probably be seen as attention-seeking, so-called “clingy”, behaviour in his head… And he wouldn’t respond anyway.
I’ve never had a friend I was so afraid talking to – sitting in Bewleys, biting my tongue, watching my every word. The hell?! It was the weirdest “friendship” I ever had. His critical eyes terrified me by the end. But, that Valentines, and those first few late nights this time round (before he said all that shite and changed everything; before issues, beliefs, fears and feelings interfered)… Those nights and chats were something else…
And I’ve heard nothing from him since that awful morning… when, despite my put-on cheerfulness, I had a lump in my throat going up Grafton St. Same as last time. Perfectly reasonable, in his head, I’m sure. I’d like to be able to say I trusted him and was surprised, but that’d be a lie. I knew it would happen (no wonder I couldn’t sleep). I was prepared. But, y’know what, I had still really hoped I was wrong and it still fucking hurt when he was finished we me - when we just suddenly weren't friends anymore. It hurts. Which is weird, 'cos I'd never admit it. Not after the fool I made of myself last time. And if the ONLY way I’ve slipped up and SHOWN that was one drunk, pathetic text message, and this blog post , then I think I’m doin’ pretty fucking well.
Issues, beliefs, fears and fucking feelings can rot friendships… You can’t ever really wipe those niggling things out. And they make it so hard to stay in touch. Why make the effort? Why not just convince yourself you never cared and move on? There’s plenty more people around who you care about less… and, thus, hate less. So you’ll go for coffee with them. And it’ll be just lovely.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
"Interesting"
Well, he had the balls to come into the bar... I may have thought he was boring after that date about 3 months back (when pretty much all we talked about was me and what I've done/do, and he (having long since run out of stuff to say about himself) sat in open-mouthed awe), but you have to respect him for braving that underground, Irish-speaking dungeon. One of his friends looked enthusiastically bemused, the other sat in grumpy silence, but G really made an effort!
Now, I can't say for sure if it was just to check the place out, or to come lookin' for me, but - bless him - he really tried! And I WAS kinda, sorta, half-delighted to see him. And, low and behold, didn't I just get a text off him there...
Maybe he deserves a chance. Maybe my definitions of "boring" and "interesting" need revising, too. Just because he's not ambitious and was happy to go straight into a safe, secure trade from secondary school... and just because his biggest passion in life is Movies (and only modern ones at that)... doesn't make him boring. Who knows. Maybe he does have hidden depths and ambitions. And, pssht, how important is it anyway.
Now, I can't say for sure if it was just to check the place out, or to come lookin' for me, but - bless him - he really tried! And I WAS kinda, sorta, half-delighted to see him. And, low and behold, didn't I just get a text off him there...
Maybe he deserves a chance. Maybe my definitions of "boring" and "interesting" need revising, too. Just because he's not ambitious and was happy to go straight into a safe, secure trade from secondary school... and just because his biggest passion in life is Movies (and only modern ones at that)... doesn't make him boring. Who knows. Maybe he does have hidden depths and ambitions. And, pssht, how important is it anyway.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Honestly
I wish everyone would just shut up and realise they're talking shite. Making noises. Might as well be grunting at each other, for all the good it does. Conversation? Nope. Not by my definition...
I'm just not in a people mood today. Not in the mood for listening to, and pretending to care about, the drivel they're spewing.
I've no internet at home, so I should probably use this opportunity to write some awesome post... but.. nope. That's it.
Workin my way through my Marilyn Monroe box-set - love it. Must get the other half of the collection some day..!
My jobs have me nackered. The full-time's great, and the other part-time stuff...well.. I can cut down a little once the first payment comes my way.
I HATE having to wait a month for my money. But - Christ - it's gonna be sweet.
26th of June. It's gonna be a hell of a night out.
And I'll get my hair done, and shop somewhere OTHER than Tesco's, and and - maybe a new hairdryer that isn't a fire-hazard! :)
Really! Look at this place. It's so... bizarre. Out of place everywhere in the world. With it's politics and it's drippy pipes and it's ...everything.
How did I get here?
Sometimes I have to do a double-take; like, really?! This is MY life? Where'd it all come from? How'd it all happen? And what the fuck is next..?
I'm just not in a people mood today. Not in the mood for listening to, and pretending to care about, the drivel they're spewing.
I've no internet at home, so I should probably use this opportunity to write some awesome post... but.. nope. That's it.
Workin my way through my Marilyn Monroe box-set - love it. Must get the other half of the collection some day..!
My jobs have me nackered. The full-time's great, and the other part-time stuff...well.. I can cut down a little once the first payment comes my way.
I HATE having to wait a month for my money. But - Christ - it's gonna be sweet.
26th of June. It's gonna be a hell of a night out.
And I'll get my hair done, and shop somewhere OTHER than Tesco's, and and - maybe a new hairdryer that isn't a fire-hazard! :)
Really! Look at this place. It's so... bizarre. Out of place everywhere in the world. With it's politics and it's drippy pipes and it's ...everything.
How did I get here?
Sometimes I have to do a double-take; like, really?! This is MY life? Where'd it all come from? How'd it all happen? And what the fuck is next..?
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Just my fucking luck. Woo.
I got a job. A perfect job. A 5-day, 9-6, ok-paying, nice atmosphere, happy, clappy, dream-come-true, summer job. The sort of job no-one can find at the moment.Part of me's thrilled, and so, so grateful: No more money troubles! No more shame at borrowing from my parents! Guaranteed to be able to stay in Dublin! Even the possibility I'll be able to SAVE some money and not need to work so much during my final college year! Wow. Fairly jammy.
But... Fucking shitting bollox why did it have to happen?
Another summer. Another fucking summer working. In my last post, I talked about my plans... Plans for the last summer I have before college ends and I'm into the real world; Plans for doing stuff I've never had time to do; Plans for relaxing, bumming around, talking to people, going for walks and reading; Plans to do and try and savour whatever popped into my head; Plans for living without any plans for a while.
This is my last - LAST - summer like this. Last summer holidays. I haven't had a summer "holiday" (where I didn't spend the whole thing working) since... Summer '04, I think? Or '05... whichever.
Every summer since, I've taken no more than a week or two off. Every short break and midterm, I was usually working, or studying, or both. DIT's course structure even means we study over Christmas.
I sound like I'm complaining - I'm not. I like my life. I know there's loads of people in the same boat. And worse boats. Terrible, rickety, moth-eaten boats. And I've had this whole week (well, 4 days - almost a week) to chill and lie in the sun and chat on the phone and sleep and drink in the late afternoon and go for long walks... and it's been sunny and beautiful and I got a bit of a colour (a half a shade less pale. Which is the darkest I go, unfortunately. You won't notice - but I'm thrilled.) And I have half of tomorrow to do the same.
But I had gotten used to the idea that I wouldn't get a job (see last post)... I had decided to refuse the first job I was interviewed for, before they even offered it to me (as it would take me away from various other commitments that I didn't wanna break)... I was praying they wouldn't even call back at all. (They didn't, as it happens.)
Today, 5 minutes into the interview, it was clear that my CV alone had been enough to convince her, and that she just wanted a gawk at me before I signed the forms. The job was mine the minute I introduced myself. Right place, right time, right fucking lucky thing to happen. She seemed lovely. I left with my new uniform under my arm and a bittuva dazed grin. Over the moon!
Then, a few cigarettes later, it hit me... Yes, I am so, so lucky to have tripped and fallen into this job so unexpectedly, easily, suddenly, randomly, whatever..
But my break's now over. I need the money. I need to work. I've been offered a job. I start Monday. End of story. End of fun. End of sun. End of laziness and idyllic days.
I have absolutely no excuse NOT to take it. If I had tried, and failed, to get a job, I could guiltlessly while away the sunny days... sipping tea, packing lunches, smoking rollies, walking everywhere, maybe giving grinds or babysitting for the odd bit of cash...
My free-living, string-free, hippy-fantasy will remain just that.
When I took that first full-time Summer job, I guess I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
I got a taste for making my own money. And, if I'm honest, I couldn't get by without it. My parents will do their best to get me out of a jam, but I hate asking them for anything...
I've already started and there's no going back.
Tasted blood; want more. Hooked and completely reliant.
I'm gonna be working for the rest of my life.
And, though it started years ago, to be honest it comes as a bit of a shock. Which is stupid.
Must've forgotten what age I was for a minute there.
Monday, June 01, 2009
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...
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...
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