2015. Bring it.

"You, me, four o' clock, behind the school shed!"

I normally feel incredibly optimistic at the beginning of a new year. Be it September when school starts back or the end of December at the prospect of a clean slate, I feel so prepared and confident that this year I will in fact be successful.

I don't know if I've finally matured enough to see that things too often don't change but this year has been different. In September I didn't have my typical study plan drawn up. I didn't even have plans to work harder. All I had was determination. Because I had survived fifth year. I had gotten through the most painstakingly difficult academic year of my life and now I was on the home stretch. All that was left was to survive another ten months and I was free. I will be free. Done with school, done with parents, done with childhood, finally.

I know that no one ever admits they felt like a child but sometime shortly after turning seventeen I truly believe I left that stage of my life behind. I can't say what changed except my mindset. The world felt different, like I had suddenly removed a glass screen from between us. I was more sure of what life meant to me and what really mattered.

I haven't quite decided if I'll make New Years Resolutions for 2015. Probably not. I mean what's the point? After January I completely ignore them. That's not to say I won't have any aims for the coming year but I think life as it is is enough of a challenge at the moment. I don't need to pressure myself to fulfill my dreams, at least for the first half of this year. Maybe when my exams have finished and all my hope has been taken away from me I'll start thinking about a plan B for when I don't get into college.

I don't know what I should do, to be honest. I hate studying so much. I can't concentrate during the holidays which is when I should be catching up on all the work I didn't have time for last term. I know I'm intelligent but that's simply not enough to pass the exams. It also requires consistent work and repetition and revision. I just don't want to. But this is the last year. After this I'm free to get a job in a shitty bar for crap money that I waste on alcohol. Every artist's dream, right? If I could just work for the next six months I'll be free to ruin my life rather than just waste it like I'm currently doing.
So. 2015. Bring it on.

New ME?

It's coming up towards that time of year again. No, Christmas is over, keep up please.

I don't stick with my New Years Resolutions. That is something I'm pretty resolute about. I don't expect it to change. Long term goals aren't my thing. That's why I blog. I start writing a post with zero plan of what it's going to be about, I edit it immediately after and I post it. Done.

Yet, I have nineteen drafts on my blogger account. Many of theses draft posts are finished but they're very personal and I'm not ready to post them yet. More of them need only a little editing to get them to the publishing front. Still, I haven't gotten around to it.
I'm not good at blogging. I don't mean the writing part, I'm fairly decent at that if you like painfully cheesy writing. And I've definitely got the blogger attitude on point with the whole game of starting every other post with an apology for WHY I HAVEN'T BLOGGED IN SOOO LONG.
The only thing I'm missing is actually blogging. Or having an actual schedule. And I can whine and moan as much as I like about the Leaving Cert and school taking up my time but come on. Grow up. There will always be something that takes from your time, if you let it. Even in the summer - even now, during the Christmas holidays - I could be daily blogging, I have the time. But I'm just not.

So 2015? I don't know what it's going to bring. I'd love to blog daily but who sees that happening? I'd love to blog weekly but that never seems to work out. More than anything I'd love to write posts that mean something. Posts that are important to me, rather than just this kind of filler. But come on. Grow up.

x

I don't even know what months are anymore

December 23. Where the fuck did the time go.

I haven't been blogging as much as I wish. To make up for that I'm going to blog daily for the rest of this week. It's Christmas after all, the time for giving.

I feel really guilty because I haven't been writing at all lately. I don't count the diary I've been keeping since July because it's literally just a stream of thoughts and I don't even remember writing half of it when I read back over. I've been neglecting everything in my life lately. My ambitions, my future, my school work, my relationships, even my favourite TV shows are being put aside. I can't say what I'm even doing instead. I'm spending too much time inside my own head and yet I don't feel like I'm spending enough time there.

As an introvert I need alone time. I need to think things over and evaluate situations and feelings and if I don't get to do that I start to unravel. Lately all I've had time for is school, homework, talking to my boyfriend and sleep. I haven't written in my diary in about two weeks. I haven't opened the blinds in my room in over a month. On top of that I haven't kept up this blog.

I've mentioned before how important A Hitcher's Goof Hunt is to my mental processing and overall peace of mind. I just never seem to make time for it. It's also an outlet for me to document my life, practice my writing and do something productive while simultaneously procrastinating. What more can you ask for?

The year is almost at an end and you know what that means. New year's resolutions that I will never keep! Yeaaayy!
I don't actually know why I bother anymore.

Oh yeah this thing

I wrote this after returning from a choir competition in November. So don't judge me, I had great intentions for this blog but as usual...yeah.

*Acts like she didn't leave for ages again*

Welcome back to my weekly blog where I post weekly. Every week.

I don't have a topic to talk about today. There are things that have been happening that I will write about soon. But at the moment I'm tired and I'm typing this on my phone.

Two days ago, Thursday I went to Sligo with the school choir to take part in the International Sligo Choral Festival. (I'm not sure why it's called international - there are only ever Irish choirs there.)

This is literally going to be a post telling the bones of what happened and nothing more. I'm too tired to be interesting.

We won the religious competition with Lift thine Eyes and Gaudete.

The second competition was the one we really cared about though. The Dancing Song is easily the most difficult song our choir has ever done and The Irish Blessing was pretty challenging too. Because TDS is unaccompanied there is the risk that we'll go out of tune.

We didn't go out of tune though. We sounded incredible, it was one of our best performances we've ever done with it. And the Irish Blessing was so beautiful.

We all know we deserved to win. Our songs were more difficult, more energetic and downright amazing. And yes I sound completely arrogant but I won't apologise for it. The winning choir were lovely and I understand that the judges wanted to award someone else. I probably would too if I were in their situation. We've won both competitions for the past two years. It was time someone else broke our monopoly.

I do feel somewhat cheated though. We should be judged on quality of the performance. One of the judges later told our teacher the Alto section sounded like 'liquid gold.' In the comments after both performances the judges said we sounded like a 'university choir' we had such maturity to our sound.

I'm really just documenting this for future reference. I no longer mind that we didn't win. We had so much fun learning and performing the pieces that the trophy seems irrelevant now. Of course our choral instructor will never believe that.

Is this Life?

Hi there. It's been a while since I've talked to you. How are you? That's great. I'm actually not in the best of moods right now. Allow me to elaborate.

My name is Kate. I'm seventeen years old and I live in Ireland. I'm still in formal Secondary school education but after this year I will finally be free. Here in Ireland we take a minimum of six subjects - most schools insist on seven - for the final two years of school before completing one exam on each of them, from which our overall grade from the six years we spent in school is calculated. As my Irish teacher is fond of telling us "Braitheann gach rud ar lá amaháin, i seachtain amháin i saol an dalta." Everything is hinged on one day, in one week in the life of a student. You might think this would lead to an immensely unhealthy amount of stress in people my age. You'd be abso-fucking-lutely right.

Another point on our schools: A lot of the teachers give students hand written notes or photocopied sheets for every topic studied which we keep in a folder or hard-back copy. Some of my classes don't use books at all - everything is in my teacher's own words. I'm not going to get into the pro and cons of this as a teaching method because personally I haven't too much of a problem with it. What I have a problem with is how we are told to study entirely from one set of notes. We are completely dependent on these notes for all of our study material and that makes me anxious. Spectacularly anxious.

That brings me to the reason I'm having a particularly bad two days. Because of the number of classes and the appalling amount of books and folders every student has each year has a communal locker in which we keep our folders which are too big to fit in our personal lockers. That is where I keep my biology notes folder in which every topic I've studied from the beginning of sixth year until now is hand written in the most concise notes any teacher has ever given me. (My biology teacher is incredible just fyi.) Last Wednesday I left my folder in the locker rather than bringing it home as I usually do. I did this 1. because I had so much other homework that I knew I wouldn't have time to study it that night and 2. I was exhausted and I just wanted to get an early night and do as little as possible. The next day was Thursday and first thing that morning I went to the folder locker to retrieve my biology notes. You can probably see where this is going. My folder was gone and no matter how many times I checked under and behind the other contents of the locker I couldn't find it.

I didn't immediately stress out. I'll admit I was a little worried but I thought maybe it's at home? I was only about 95% sure I'd left it in school the previous day. Still, I looked around the general locker area and found nothing. Thursday evening I went home and wasn't at all surprised to find that my folder was not in my room where I normally study. That night - last night - I wrote a Facebook post asking if anyone had seen it around the school. I think the comments let you know exactly how important these notes are to students. Here are some from people who are even my close friends offering help and sympathy.

I know you're probably thinking that we're just being melodramatic teenagers exaggerating every little hiccup that happens in our life. I was honestly close to tears today looking for the folder again in school. Yet another note on my school: we don't have a lost and found system. We've never had an effective one in all the years I've been in that institute but today I went to the caretaker to ask if there was any system of collecting lost items and he told me there was nothing. If you lose something you look for it and if it doesn't turn up, too bad. I walked all over the school three times today searching for it everywhere and I had friends helping and it's just not anywhere. I don't want to think that someone has taken it intentionally but there is literally no alternative at this point. I was hoping it would turn up but after two days I don't know what else to do.

I'd be the first to admit that I'm not the most organised person in the world. But i'm also not a careless person. I've never lost a book or even a copy in the six years I've spent in secondary school and now someone has taken the most valuable study notes I own. Life is fucking awesome.

I know my stress levels are increased because I'm exhausted and other stuff is happening and that's why I'm so upset over this. Wow I just wrote an entire post on my biology folder didn't I? Yeah sorry about that. Actually I'm not. I'm not even going to read back over this. #YOLO

Let's Never Break Up

I miss this blog. I miss pouring my heart out to my virtually non-existent reader base. I miss recording my mundane life story. I'm also going absolutely insane without you. Let's never break up.

So, What's new?

Alex Day is being a douchebag on the internet again. Hopefully I'll actually follow that sentence up with some context in a full blog post when I find the time. At the moment it's the middle of a school night and I still have a ton of homework to complete.

I'm in my final year of Secondary school and I hate everything and everyone. It therefore seems to make sense that I would return to the internet to vent my 3M0T!ONZ.

On the bright side: It's finally acting like autumn! October is upon us, officially my favourite month. We've got Halloween to look forward to, dark evenings, hot chocolate and marshmallows, winds howling half the night - what's not to love? I get that I might sound sarcastic but I truly love this time of year. I'd take a freezing bed over a sweaty summer afternoon any day.

I'm going to make you a promise right here and now. Please try to forget about the previous promises I made to you, I'm going to try really hard at this one. I'm going to blog once a week.

Are you still there? Don't freak out it's going to be okay I swear. I have a second blog which I'm sure I linked to in a previous post. Once a week I will post here or there and nowhere else. I'm going to make this work.

I feel like I'm not a person anymore, I'm just a skin-sack full of stress and procrastination and more stress. One of these days I'll go into detail about how you definitely should not do school. I've practically an expert.

Remember how a while ago I was going to stop procrastinating? You didn't really believe that would work, did you?

Other new, other news...Oh I'm entering a poetry reciting competition next week. Yep. Why you ask is a socially anxious glossophobe entering a competition that involves speaking in front of a large group of people? Because I can muddafucker. Because I persist in trying to prove to myself that I can and will not be held back by my emotional limitations. And because I get to miss a day of school to go to a boys' college. Bite me.

This was fun. I miss writing silly things on the internet that may potentially convince employers not to hire me. I live life to the fullest, I know.

So I guess I should now go do that homework that was due in today. Wow. I just love my freaking life.

Wait, it's September?

It's the same every year: summer swings around like a frisbee and I'm so busy trying to get into position to catch it that before I realise it, it's gone over my head.

I have less pictures than I'd like which is basically a recurring theme throughout all of my life. And on that note you can now follow me on Instagram! Hurray for getting with the social media of two years ago! Well done, Kate, you're finally catching up.

Today I really just want to recap on some of the things I did during the summer - the ones I have photos for because a picture says ten words or something like that. Firstly, as I mentioned previously, I dyed my hair blue and now I miss it terribly. I mean just look how gorgeous it looks?



                     

I don't have any pictures but when I returned to school I decided the best way to remove the blue would be to dye it black. Unfortunately that resulted in me having a green tinge in my hair for about a week before I dyed it brown again. I should have guessed that this wasn't going to help. I don't know what I was thinking. Anyway finally I dyed it red and now it's a dark cherry colour which I really like a lot. Although I think I may have dyed it so much that my hair can't hold dye anymore. Now when I wash my hair a WHOLE LOAD of dye washes out everytime. So I don't expect my colour to last very long.

I think I also mentioned in a previous post that I'm volunteering at the Kilkenny Arts Festival for the third year running. This year I was stationed in an inflated Luminarium (the Pentalum) which is more magical than Disneyland. More in a later post.

This is what my hair looked like in the several different domes of the Pentalum.

 

Red Dome

Photo courtesy of Danielle*, pictured right.

Colours 'n' Stuff

I'm realising that this just looks like an excuse for posting an excessive amount of selfies, and yet I proceed. Take what you will from that.

 During the Arts Festival this year I went to a lot of events. One of the best benefits of being a volunteer is that you are allowed free entry to any event that is a part of the festival. And let me tell you there are so many awesome things to go to. One thing I've regretted for the past two years that I've volunteered was that I only attending a couple of the available events. Mainly because I felt awkward going alone. This year though I sucked it up and just went along anyway and it was definitely more rewarding. (Even going with my mum to a couple of things was more fun than not going at all.)

'Secret Concert' in the castle park

My favourite by far though was the Kate Tempest concert I went to in the set theatre which subsequently got me hooked to her rap music and her poetry. I recommend you listen to her track Circles which is a personal favourite. And, well, everything else she's done too. I'm going to write a separate piece on that concert actually because it would become too long here.

 

The Shakespeare Globe Theatre performed as part of the festival for the third year in a row. I went to see their performance of Much Ado About Nothing twice because they're just that fantastic. I've gone to their performance at least once every year they've come to Kilkenny and every year they astound me. *Spoiler Alert. There's one scene in Much Ado About Nothing where a woman gets a basin of water poured on top of her. Bear in mind she has to do this every night for 10 days. That's artistic dedication.*

 

 Note the man sitting to the left in a gorgeous overcoat and hat.

That was my summer in photo format. Maybe you'll hear about sixth year from me soon but it's more likely that I won't be back until next summer so enjoy this post. I'm so tired.

*Danielle's blog

ROW 80: Reassess and Give Up?

I'm not going to lie because that wouldn't do any of us any good. It's been nearly two weeks since I've written anything. I'm volunteering at an art's festival at the moment but I know that's no excuse. None the less I'm going to drop out at least for a while. I've had a really great experience and ROW80 has helped me to do so much more writing that I ever would have otherwise. Everyone has been so lovely and encouraging but at the moment I can't continue. I hope everyone else is being more persistent than I am. I wish I could stick it with you. Keep writing, keep reading and keep dreaming! Have fun everyone and good luck.

I'm Blue (Da Ba Dee Da Ba Dye)

 I wrote the following on a bus journey home from Dublin several weeks ago. I'd spent the day shopping with my mum and eating nice food. Relevant points: I had recently dyed my hair a grungy, dirty blue colour after a failed bleach job. Update: I've now re-bleached my hair and dyed it a fabulous blueish-turquoise colour

It's strange to have people turn and stare openly at you as though they have earned the right. I know it's not at all the same thing but I can understand to a certain extent how people with physical disabilities must feel when they're stared at. It's like people don't realise it makes the stare-ee uncomfortable or else they just don't care. Some people you can see a hint of a smile in their eyes and know they they enjoy the hair colour but others are outright scary.

I was walking down Temple Bar in Dublin curiously looking for someone who looked like they were selling drugs when a middle aged couple walking towards me. I noticed them because the man was watching me with a malevolent intensity that immediately freaked me out. I never felt more vulnerable, like a rabbit looking into the eyes of a fox knowing that it was seen as nothing but prey. I was thinking, what is this creep's problem? I passed by them and nervously glanced back to watch him go. That was when I saw his partner, the woman staring back at me in disgust. My blue hair was at this time a new thing and this was my first proper public appearance with it. With this in mind my first instinct was to think that the creep's wife resented me because she saw me as some kind of fucked up competition. It took me a second to remember my hair and I thought, oh my god. That they were disgusted by my fashion seemed -incredibly- to make more sense than my original theory. People get offended by oddest things.

That's the bad kind of experiences. Other people are actually very funny though. I was sitting on a wall waiting for the bus to take me home and watching the passersby. I was noticing a great deal of people, who would normally glance at me and continue on or completely ignore me, examine me as they passed. One attractive young man I'd like to believe was particularly enamored by my beauty that his jaw literally dropped open in awe. Okay, the real story? I couldn't say for sure what age he was but early 20s anyway. I was leaning my head on my hand staring off into space when he passed in front of me. I'm not exaggerating here: his mouth fell open and he looked me up and down in pure amazement as though he'd never before seen the like. His eyes and mine met briefly and he held the gaze rather they looking away in embarrassment as was normal custom in these particular situations. It was one of those moments where you had to be there to appreciate how truly surprising and hilarious it was.
You know how in movies when they describe that intense moment where time slows down or stops entirely? As usual Hollywood got it wrong. For me it was more like every one of my senses were suddenly enhanced and became as acutely awake as Peter Parker's. I felt like I was able to take in 100 times the detail I normally could. The encounter lasted no more than a second but I was able to write a lengthy paragraph on it, all the same.

Reassessing My Goals

At this point in my project I'm almost at the end of the storyline. That's not to say that I've said everything I want or need. Which means I have to do a certain amount of backtracking and rewriting. So my goal for the next week is to spend an hour everyday working on my project in some form. I don't expect to get my 800 words written every day but that's not the most important thing now.

Good luck to everyone else this weeks and thanks for all the encouragement you've been giving me!

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Writing is hard. Writing every day is hard. Being a writer is hard. I've fallen a bit behind in my writing schedule. I could blame it on writer's block or I could say my grandmother died, you won't know if I'm lying either way. Truth is I just haven't tried in a couple of days. Okay, I did try but not hard enough. I know this is a character flaw and it's no excuse but writing is hard.

I don't mean to whine, honestly. I don't have a lot of perseverance. I'm working on it I promise.

I need to stop making promises. I never keep them.

Let's Get Together and Write

This is my Sunday check in with ROW80. I've kept to my word count of 800 per day and made up on my lost time as well giving me a grand total of 4867 words. I'm realising more than ever that the first draft is always going to be really shitty. I know my idea is good and I know I have some writing ability but at the moment the idea isn't coming together how I'd like. This is partly because I'm still not one hundred percent sure of everything I want to convey.

I'm enjoying the writing process however and I'm very optimistic about where this is going. Bring on week two!

And always remember, writing is when you make the sentences. Editing is when you make them good.

An Arctic Monkeys' Concert and Other Firsts

Yesterday, the 12 of July marked a lot of firsts for me. Many of them my seem incidental but trust me they are very important. Let's go through some of them.

First Concert
After many struggles and arguments - see here for details - my parents finally allowed me to go to an Arctic Monkeys concert. I have never exactly understood the huge appeal of concerts - I mean you're lost in a crowd of smelly strangers with a limited view of the stage and the act with everyone screaming and singing out of tune right next to your ear. Doesn't sound fantastic. But it was. It was so fantastic. It's a really freeing and exciting feeling to be surrounded by thousands and thousands of people who feel at least as passionately about the music they're listening to as you do. I don't remember the last time I felt so alive, so liberated.

First time to be chatted up by an older guy
Before the concert began my friends and I were sitting on a grassy area talking and waiting. This group of guys were sitting next to us and one of them turns to me and asks what my favourite Arctic Monkey's songs is. In my surprise I stupidly say the first thing that comes into my head which doesn't happen to be a song at all. 'Do you wanna know' is definitely not an Arctic Monkeys' song. What I'd meant was 'Do I wanna know' and I might of gotten away with it but unfortunately he noticed. Not to mention that is definitely not my favourite song. These guys looked about twenty-two and when I was asked what age I was I hesitated for a moment, considered lying and then decided it was unlikely to achieve any desirable end so I went with the truth - seventeen. I then returned the question and he also hesitated, probably the same thoughts going through his head as had just passed through mine. Except he apparently came to a different conclusion and replied, eighteen. Pfft. Yeah right. We talked for a bit about the band and the other acts and then moved on.

First Mosh-Pit
Myself and my friends were pretty near to the front of the crowd when we suddenly found ourselves in a mosh-pit. It just started, out of nowhere and we were just like - this is not where we want to be. If we hadn't made our way out of it we would have been shoved out of it pretty soon anyway.

First UFO
I'm aware that flying bottles and rubbish are a common thing at concerts. What I was not expecting was a heavy, pink schoolbag to fall though the air, hitting my friend on the head. It had barely landed when someone caught it up again and chucked it away, back into the crowd. I mean, whatever you're into right?

First time to remove an unwanted arm from a shoulder
By the time the main act came on we were tired of being sandwiched between people, grinded on and pushed back and forth so we moved to the outer side of the crowd and watched much more comfortably from there. My friend Danielle and I were minding our own business and enjoying the band and then a guy about our age glanced back at Danielle. Then he did it again immediately after almost as you would if you had just recognised someone. Then he did it a third time like she had a fucking elephant on her head or something. Naturally enough Danielle and I had a bit of a laugh at this strange encounter. It might be relevant to add that I'm pretty certain he was smoking weed. But then a while later we had moved so that we were standing next to the guy who I might mention was singing incorrect lyrics also. Anyway he was with his girlfriend and they looked pretty cosy with his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Then suddenly Danielle stared at me and I looked at her to see what was up. She looked shocked and I was really surprised to see an arm around her shoulder. She told me later that she had thought it was my arm around her at first. The weed-smoking, lyric-failing guy had his right arm wrapped around his girlfriend and his left draped over Danielle's shoulder. It was the strangest, thing to see and Danielle just looked to perplexed and unsure what to do that I asked her if I should move his arm. So I sort of knocked this guy's arm off her shoulder and we went back to enjoying the music.

First time to be mistaken for a babysitter
We were trying to make our way out of the main crowd area after the third supporting act. My previously mentioned friend Danielle is a small Filipina. As we were trying to push through the hoards of squashed bodies and defiant concert goers she heard someone say something like "Let them through there's a child!" Which of course we found very amusing afterwards.

First time to have literally no idea what is happening
When Danielle and I went out to the edge of the crowd this cute couple came up to us suddenly and started asking us frantic questions so quickly with such a strong accent that neither of us had a clue what was happening. They sounded so anxious like the answers to the questions were the most important things in the universe and they needed them right now. All I could make out was that they were asking us something about Alex Turner (Arctic Monkeys' front man, notorious asshat). Danielle actually thought they were talking a different language they were so incomprehensible. So the two of us just stared blankly at them completely lost for words. And then the couple began to look really worried and also confused and scared. It just made for a really strange, confusing encounter. But once they slowed down and actually started talking sense they turned out the be the sweetest. I've completely forgotten their names now but when they introduced themselves the boy said "I'm __ and this is my girlfriend __ she's fucking perfect" in the most nonchalant, casual way possible. They were completely adorable and just a bit drunk.

First time to not have a pen when I needed it
Let me tell you something about myself. I always bring a pen with me. Wherever I go. Even if I don't bring paper I bring a pen. Yesterday morning I had to minimise the space I took up in my bag so that I could fit my jacket in it if it got really hot. I decided there was probably no reason I might need a pen at a concert and so I left it out. As it happens I never put my jacket in my bag. On the bus ride home I couldn't help eavesdropping on a conversation in the seat behind me relating to Breaking Bad one of my all-time favourite TV shows. Then one of the boys leaned forward and asked if I had a pen so he could draw on his friend's face. Yep. The perfect conversation opener into a conversation I really wanted to join and nope. Nope. No pen. Jesus, I will never leave a pen out again.

First time to crush on a nameless faceless man
Let's just say that guy who asked me for a pen? By the end of that bus journey I had maybe a small crush on him. He just sounded really interesting okay! I think we'd get on well.
I never even saw his face though because the bus was so dark. So I don't know his name or what he looks like but I know the sound of his voice and I know we're totally soul-mates. Things will work themselves out.

First cigarette burn
Pretty self explanatory. A man next to me was smoking and carelessly waving around his cigarette which was held against my arm for a second before I realised what I was feeling. Yeah, I was feeling a red hot ember pressed against my skin.

First time to have someone spill a drink on me
Not long after the cigarette incident one of the women that was there with the man spilled some sort of weird drink that smelt like herbal tea down my leg. I'm basically living every Hollywood High School party where the unpopular girl gets a drink accidentally spilled on her by the jealous popular girl. #lifecomplete

The Woesome Tale of a Maybe-Concert Goer

Here's the low down: I wanted to go to a concert, my parents were totally against it, I told them the father of a friend would be attending also, they eventually agreed. I ordered the tickets, they realised that they would be in Italy at the time of the concert, had a little freak out, calmed down and were brought around. Then my mum was speaking to the mother of said friend who's dad was supposed to be going to the concert and it turned out he was no longer going. They had another freak out, insisted I give the names and addresses of every person going to the concert with me and then they would consider re-re-allowing me to attend.

Here's my problem, my parents act like they're living in the 1950s. When I asked what they wanted the addresses of my friends for at first they refused to tell me. If that doesn't smell of shame hell knows what does. Eventually I coerced it out of my mum who said and I quote, "You can tell a lot about a person from where they live."
I was literally shocked into silence by this remark. I know my parents are a pain and ridiculously protective and they believe that anyone who looks at their daughter is a potential predator but I didn't think they were that prejudiced. I was so angry with her I couldn't trust myself to speak so I said nothing.

I understand that my parents are worried for my safety and they see it as their responsibility to protect me but there comes a point where they need to let go. Obviously my opinion on the matter differs from them and I've given up trying to make them see it my way because they are just so stuck in their beliefs. I don't think it's their responsibility to protect me. It's their responsibility to educate me and make me alert of the dangers that face me in the world (something they have never even TRIED to do btw) but I am a person. Just because I'm under 18 it does not make me less than a person. I should be made responsible for my actions and the dangers I face. If I were caught breaking the law I would be responsible for the repercussions not my parents. So why is this situation any different? I need to learn sometime how to take care of myself in the real world. If they continue shrouding me in their comfort blanket of protection they are simple making me more vulnerable when i turn 18 and am suddenly completely responsible for my life.
I angers me so much that they can't see this no matter how much I try to explain it. They are so utterly convinced that they no better because they are adults and my parents.

The end of the story is that yesterday I finally went to the Arctic Monkey's concert supported by Jake Bugg and Royal Blood - my first concert - and it was the single best day of my life. More on that soon I hope. Also in case you were wondering the list of numbers and addresses I gave my parents were mostly fake because I didn't know them. That's probably the most rebellious thing I've done in my life.

Music Made Me An Anxious Child

I recently started listening to a podcast called Radiolab. This blogpost will make much more sense to you if you first listen to this incredibly interesting podcast about how electro-waves can improve learning and performance ability.

I'm going to go right ahead and assume you've listened to it now.

When I was about 7 I started taking piano lessons because my mother wanted me to learn. I never wanted to play and I never enjoyed taking lessons or practicing but I did it to please my mum. I was an anxious child and my music teacher was a 'slave driver', my dad would say. I was terrified of messing up and looking like I hadn't practiced or worse that I was just too stupid to remember the notes. She pushed me hard and expected me to practice for an hour every day. As a kid who felt miserable after playing half a scale I would cut practice sessions short and whenever possible lie to my mother, saying I'd practiced when I hadn't. I hated it. I hated my teacher. I hated my mother for getting me into it and I hated myself for continuing to put up with it and not asking to quit.

But sometimes I'd get into a zone very like the one described in that podcast. I'd no longer be concentrating on each individual note and on what came next and whether I had the right tempo. The song just seemed to flow from my fingers and the music played like I was born to be a musician. I'd be in a kind of daze for the duration of the song and before I knew it, it was over and I hadn't made a single mistake. Occasionally I'd snap out of this zone somewhere in the middle of the song and I'd immediately be filled with cold dread and anxiety, afraid that I'd been playing the wrong song, wrong notes, made a tonne of mistakes - any number of worries would pop into my head-like the gnomes Sally describes. Because I thought I hadn't been paying attention. It felt like I hadn't been paying attention. As though I were in a daydream and I could've been like that for an hour or two minutes, I couldn't say. It was more intense than any daydream though, it was like I had fully dropped off to sleep.

I have never understood this mindset that I got into until listening to this podcast. At the time I considered the possibility that it was my brain's way of coping with the distress I felt every time I played. A sort of mode it went into so I didn't have to experience the stress and angst. I finally quit piano lessons and I've never since felt that way so strongly. Sometimes when I write I get this stream of thought that seems to flow from nowhere and it's the best thing I've ever written and after five minutes I look to the clock and see an hour and a half has passed. It's not quite the same feeling though. It's very difficult to explain. It's a less vivid version of that zone I would slip into when playing.

Like Sally in the podcast said, it became rather addictive to me also. I felt a yearning to feel the calm and serenity every time I sat in front of the keyboard. It was a meditative, almost zen feeling. I haven't thought about any of this in years but that podcast brought back memories.

A Round of Words in 79 Days

Just this moment I discovered a writing challenge that has me very excited.
I tried NaNoWriMo two years ago and it simply did not work for me. A Round of Words in 80 Days is a super exciting project and despite being a day late I'm going to leap onto the bandwagon.

My goal is to write 800 words a day for 80 days. I'm working on my first novel and 64000 sounds like a good word count. And of course it's going to be a masterpiece because everyone's first novel is a master piece.
Right?

Here's a new mantra I borrowed from a fantastic writer, Chuck Wendig, who's blog led me to ROW80:

I am the commander of these words.
I am the King of this story.
I am the God of this place.
I am a writer and I will finish the shit that I started. Amen.

Welcome to July!

The first month of my summer has passed me by and as per usual I haven't done a thing. That's a lie of course, in fact I've done many things such as watch a great number of movies, begin and complete numerous TV shows.

Of course I do leave the house sometimes. If only to avoid an inevitable argument with my darling mother.

And pretend that I live in a parallel universe where the mastermind of a criminal organisation is hiding out in an old ruin by my house. I've done some reading too as I've previously mentioned and even a little writing. I haven't been great on the blogging front of course.

Or take pretty pictures to convince myself that I'm not wasting my summer. I still don't believe it though.

Oh and while I'm at it I started another blog a few months back -where I procrastinate from this blog- which you can find on Wordpress.

Moving Swiftly Along

I think perhaps I've forgotten how to blog. It's very different from riding a bicycle. There is no right or wrong way therefore once forgotten it's hard to remember exactly what it is you've forgotten. What I mean to say is that I had found a method of blogging that I liked and that worked for me but now I've lost it. I don't know what it was I was trying to achieve so I can't continue trying to achieve it.

I used to blog to clear my head and to sort out my thoughts. It was just a place to put my words so that they didn't end up lost or in the washing machine. Losing my blogging voice is like losing my direction. I'm just not sure where I'm going with this anymore. And by this I mean just about everything.

That probably sounds ridiculous now I come to think of it. My posts never seemed to have any outward direction. They did however provide me with the key to reading the map. Have you also noticed how incredibly pretentious I'm sounding these days? I'm not sure if this is a new thing or I was always this way but I'm just beginning to notice. I really don't like the sound of it.

I think sometimes I try so hard to not take things seriously that I'm simply hiding from the fact that I really care a lot about said things. I suppose I wish that I could see everything as a joke, that way the outcome wouldn't matter. But in all honesty I care immensely about a lot of things that are beyond my control and many things that are also within my control. But if I try at these things I'm admitting that I care. So I don't try. And this is just possibly the root of my procrastination.
WOW was that a conclusion? I didn't ever think I'd make it.

Improvements and Relapses

Today is Wednesday, dear readers. For the next week I'm going to write a post a day. Don't expect them to be good (not that you ever do...) but expect them, none the less. I'm going to tackle this procrastination problem if it's the last thing I do.

You might notice my blog design is a bit awful at the moment. I'm trying to design a background but the measurements are proving difficult. Also I get distracted easily. We've already established this I believe.

I finished reading The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton today, which means I'll probably watch the film soon because that is how I roll. I feel like the book receives more hype than it deserves but having said that I did enjoy it. It wouldn't be the first thing I'd recommend to a friend though. 6/10 maybe?

I'm almost finished the third book in A Song of Ice and Fire aka Game of Thrones series, A Storm of Swords. Those books take me so long to get through but it doesn't help when I start reading another book in the middle. No spoilers but it's gotten to a point in the story where I'm sort of expecting something massive to happen. It's not that it's dull or slow moving or drawn out in the least but it's just a constant series of the events of the war and I'm kind of...bored.

So that's my Wednesday see you tomorrow. For realz this time.

When you can't blog...

The biggest problem a lot of bloggers face is a lack of ideas. I face this myself more often than not. It can be difficult to continuously put out content and sometimes I just don't seem to have anything to say. I have, however compiled a master list of super easy, blog posts that anyone can write.

1. Everyone has at least one recipe/meal that they can make. I don't really care if it's boiled pasta or a strawberry roulette but you've made it so many times that you are the master chef of it.
2. Hand-write a post and scan it so your readers can attempt to read your horrific handwriting.
3. Write a review of something you loved /hated,
4. Tell us about your childhood.
5. Compile a list of suitable gifts for specific people e.g. mum, dad etc.
6. Tell us about your personal style and inspirations.
7. Write a letter to your future self.
8. A Day in the Life post. If The Beatles can stoop so low then you can too.
9. If it's Christmas or Halloween or any other holiday that you decorate for take some photos and record your beautiful home for future reference.
10. Picture post. If you aren't the instagraming type or you have a tonne of photos on your phone or camera that you don't want to delete but need to free up space this is the perfect opportunity to make use of your blog.
11. If you really aren't in the mood ask a friend or family member to write a post about you. Or if you have blogger friends swap blogs for a day and write their post while they do yours.
12. Talk about your favourite social medias, share the funniest cat video you watched this week or post some interesting links that have caught your interest. This is literally so easy you could have it done in 10 minutes.
13. Write a post about your favourite blogs, books, films, songs, artist whatever. I don't know about you but I like talking about things I like.
14. Interview a willing friend or family member.
15. Interview yourself.
16. Welcome to my crib. Give a house tour complete with photos or catalog your favourite spots in your local area.
17. Make a list. Things to do Before I'm Old and Boring or 30 before 30, whatever fits.
18. Create a playlist to suit your particular mood/ writer's block.
19. Share your deepest darkest secrets with the internet with a 5 things you never wanted to know about me post. (Or for the faint-hearted 5 things you don't know about me)
20. If the world revolved around you, where do you want to be in 5 years time? Go on, be honest.

Permission to Write a Shitty First Draft (And Other Tangents)

Anne Lamott and probably a whole load of other people, once said something along the lines of, You need to give yourself permission to write a shitty first draft. That was an awkwardly-phrased opening sentence but this is my first draft. Therefore it can be as horrendous as I make. Admittedly I don't plan on making a second draft, and I think that is sort of the point but tough. My blog, my rules.

When you take a break from something that has previously been a routine it can be really difficult to get back into the swing of things. I no longer have school distracting me from spilling my secrets onto the internet and my intensely wild social life has inexplicably gone silent. ...Yes my intensely wild social life... Stop giving my blog post that look....I have friends...

Amazingly I can still find excuses not to blog despite it being one of my favourite everyday things to do. I just don't understand my brain. I need genuine advice on this: How does one overcome a procrastination addiction?

I considering following the 9 step plan designed for addicts. I'm going to Google that right now actually. (This is like fucking live blogging, man.)

Okay lesson #1 learned from Google today: It's a 12 step program not 9. According to Wikipedia the aims of the program are as follows:

• Admitting that one cannot control one's addiction or compulsion; (✓)
• Recognizing a higher power that can give strength; (Um...?)
• Examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member); (Volunteers please!)
• Making amends for these errors; (I don't think I've harmed anyone other than my future self)
• Learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior; (This is what I need to get to)
• Helping others who suffer from the same addictions or compulsions. (Yeah! I can start a business called Muldowney Motivation)

Step 1: Admittance
Hi, I'm Kate and I'm a Procrastinator! (Monotonous chorus: Hi, Kate.) I first realised that my procrastination was a major problem when I was spending three hours doodling and staring off into space every Saturday with a text book open in front of me.

Step2: Belief in Recovery
Okay so this is the higher power mumbo-jumbo. According to Recovery.org, the goal of this step is to allow participants to come"to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." It focuses on creating hope and faith in returning to a healthy state.

Hmm I'm just realising that an awful lot of these steps are very religion-centred. I'm going to do some more research and get back to you tomorrow. Or the next day. Probably.

Asking Too Much

I want to share with you a poem. I feel as though if I could answer every question in this poem and piece the answers together into a picture then I'd finally know myself.

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with.
Tell me why you loved them,
then tell me why they loved you.

Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through.
Tell me what the word home means to you
and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name
just by the way you describe your bedroom
when you were eight.

See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate,
and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain
or bounce in the bellies of snow?
And if you were to build a snowman,
would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms
or would leave your snowman armless
for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would,
would you notice how that tree weeps for you
because your snowman has no arms to hug you
every time you kiss him on the cheek?

Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad
even if it makes your lover mad?
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion
or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name,
and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy
when she spoke it for the very first time.

I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.
Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.
Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old
beating up little boys at school.

If you were walking by a chemical plant
where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds
would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud
or would you whisper
“That cloud looks like a fish,
and that cloud looks like a fairy!”

Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?
And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me —
how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?

See, I wanna know if you believe in any god
or if you believe in many gods
or better yet
what gods believe in you.
And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself,
have the prayers you asked come true?
And if they didn’t, did you feel denied?
And if you felt denied,
denied by who?

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling good.
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror
on a day you’re feeling bad.
I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty
could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.

If you ever reach enlightenment
will you remember how to laugh?

Have you ever been a song?
Would you think less of me
if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key?
And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry
I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me
who have learned the wisdom of silence.

Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
And if you do —
I want you to tell me of a meadow
where my skateboard will soar.

See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living.
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving,
and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.
I wanna know if you bleed sometimes
from other people’s wounds,
and if you dream sometimes
that this life is just a balloon —
that if you wanted to, you could pop,
but you never would
‘cause you’d never want it to stop.

If a tree fell in the forest
and you were the only one there to hear —
if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound,
would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist,
or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this:

If you and I went for a walk
and the entire walk, we didn’t talk —
do you think eventually, we’d… kiss?

No, wait.
That’s asking too much —
after all,
this is only our first date.

Andrea Gibson

Hiatus

I'm taking a break from the internet. I feel my life spiraling out of control and I can't focus on changing that when I'm constantly procrastinating by watching/reading etc. something fascinating online. I need to focus on school work and I need some alone time. The internet is an amazing thing because I never have to feel alone, I'm always within reach of my friends and I feel connected to the world wide network of people no matter what I'm doing. I need a few weeks. See you then.

It's for charity...I swear

I'm not sure why it's socially looked down upon to buy from charity shops. Personally, I think it's the best thing since sliced bread (this coming from a girl who couldn't cut a straight slice if her life depended on it). 

Think about it, you're giving to a worthy cause and you're getting something in return for your 'generosity.'

You get the bonus of interesting, cheap and unique products as well as the right to call yourself a philanthropist. Yes, I do call myself a philanthropist, deal with it. It's something to put on your CV at least. "I give a substantial amount to charity every month." Got the job in the bag, oh yeah.

Almost every book I but from a charity shop is one that I've never heard of before and simply think looks interesting. I'd rarely buy a book that I knew nothing about from a regular book shop because they're slightly pricey, especially when you buy as many books as I do. Charity shops allow me to try different books for half the price and as a result I've discovered many new and fantastic authors through them.

Some people of course like the idea of getting a brand new book and having every crease and stain made by their own hands. I however, like the idea of sharing the experience of reading a book with any number of strangers I've never met. Through every imperfection the book holds I feel their own memories as they traveled the same adventure I am now on. I feel this weird connection to the previous owner and it makes the book even more special to me knowing it has passed through numerous hands before mine.

Harassment and Double Standards

( I wrote the first half of this post a few weeks ago and never published it. This is the completed version full of feminism and frustration etc.)

I rarely experience personal forms of sexism but this week has shown me so many different forms it and I. Am. Angry.

I went to a charity dance competition Friday night and the judges and the two presenters were so infuriatingly rude and insulting. It's one thing to have young immature boys who haven't the sense to know better act as though they are entitled to your attention. It's a completely different experience to be faced with adults both male and female who almost certainly have come across feminist ideas at some point in their lives and yet they act obnoxiously and disrespectfully towards people who have put themselves out there, up on stage in a very vulnerable situation to raise funds for a good cause. Watching this behavior I find myself becoming ever more disgusted with people. It's upsetting for me to see this going on and feeling utterly helpless to interfere or defend.

I have always been aware of the inequality that is rife among humanity but I've been lucky enough to not have to experience much of it first hand. It makes me want to become a human rights activist because I feel so incredibly strongly about these issues. It's so difficult to make enough of a difference to influence the way people live and treat others and I honestly don't believe it's possible to create a world free of inequality. But it doesn't stop me wanting to try.

This video is French film that shows a reversed society in which women are superior and men are oppressed. YouTube has made it age restricted due to 'sexual violence' which is frustrating because there are so many more harmful videos for people to watch on YouTube and this video is literally showing how horrific and awful sexual harassment and violence is, not promoting it. Anyway I recommend you watch it.

While I'm on a feminist rant I might as well include another video which honestly nearly made me cry because of the heart wrenching truth in it. All my life, whenever I've become passionate about anything I've been accused of becoming too emotionally invested, becoming aggressive when I'm trying to tell someone why my beliefs are important to me. I've seen girls lose their spirit and become apathetic about things they were once ardently devoted to because they were interrupted and laughed at for being bossy or loud. I learned at a young age to suppress my knowledge and intelligence because I feared being called a know-it-all again. I've been called stubborn, pushy, bossy and every other name mentioned in this video, by adults. We are taught to keep our heads down, to allow others take the lead by our parents, teachers, family members, everyone who we are expected to respect and obey. And then society asks why there aren't more female leaders, why are the majority of commanding job positions operated by men? Oh it's because women aren't capable of that job position, men are just better. Fucking bullshit. It's because unlike little boys who are praised for being ambitious, assertive and called leaders, we as girls are discouraged in the most severe form from these very same actions.

Lifescouts - Ping Pong

I have played ping pong (table tennis. I'm going to call it table tennis.) many times over the years at home, on holidays in Gran Canaria and in my local community hall, to name a few. My mother is absolutely in love with the game. We've had a make-shift table tennis board for years at home but only really take it out in the summer. Even before that, for as long as I can remember we would play table tennis on the kitchen table. If she had the space I know my mother would dedicate a whole room to the game and buy a full length table for it. All this practice should add up to me being quite the expert but as with most sports I have no expertise in the area. I might be able to beat someone who has never before played the game - I emphasise the might.
I do however enjoy playing table-tennis as it's a lot of fun.

You can probably tell I have not got an interesting story to accompany this badge. I'm only writing this because I want to claim the badge and I needed to post something today. I promise one day I'll start writing good blog posts. Until then please hang around, it does get better.

Don't make promises you can't keep, Kate, I hear you whisper.
But those are the best kind...I reply.

Stuff and a Lack of Stuff

Hello readers.
It's Saturday, I'm still kind of sick, I have done no homework, I have school on Monday, I'm now a writer on a video game, I got a bloglovin', it's Saturday. Just another regular day in the life of Kate.

Firstly I'm becoming anxious because I'm behind on school work as I have been sick and have done nothing all week.
Secondly I'm getting anxious because I'm now a writer on a fucking video game??? How did this happen, I hear you ask. You promised us you were as big a screw up as the rest of us, Kate, how did you get a job, what a sell-out!
Long story short a friend of mine told me about a game project he was working on and then mentioned that they needed a scriptwriter. I talked to the group leader and now I'm a scriptwriter wow, how the fuck - that was really fast - help! You can probably tell I'm a bit worried because I have practically no experience with scriptwriting or even gaming really so I'm fucking terrified. But it's going to be okay and I'm going to try my best and I'm not going to freak out. Yet.

If you have a BlogLovin' account you can follow me there. I've jumped on the band wagon and gotten a bloglovin' account because I want to read more blogs and I think this is a really great method of keeping track of them.

I feel like I don't really have anything to say in this post. I want to start writing blog posts that are interesting or helpful to people, I just don't really have an area of expertise. I'm failing at being a teenager, failing at being an adult and up until now I seem to have failed at being a writer. Not that I've 'made it' now or anything. We'll see.

Lifescouts - CPR

If you don't already know what Lifescouts is I will quickly summarise it for you now. Alex Day is a YouTuber-Musician-Entrepreneur who came up with the idea of creating goals and rewarding the achievement of said goals with badges. That's it basically.

If you still don't understand then here is a video from Alex himself explaining it.

I think it's the coolest idea ever but I'm so uncommitted to life that I never got into it when he announced it last year. This year, along with my plan to blog more I want to take part in Lifescouts. Without further ado, here is my first post about Lifescouts. (I've said Lifescouts too much now.)

Last year my school provided me the opportunity to complete a First Aid course which, as I remember, took a whole school day. We had one trained professional and a trainee (who spent most of the time standing/sitting by the window looking bored) explain the theory to us and then we were invited to practice on a special manikin who's chest moved as you applied pressure to it. After the course I did not feel qualified to perform CPR on a dog let alone a human being. This had as much to do with the limited experience I gained as it did to do with the trainer telling us every half an hour that if he were asked whether he wanted someone to perform CPR on him in a life-threatening situation, he would say no. As well as him lecturing us on the amount of deaths and broken ribs and subsequent punctured lungs people have received due to CPR. So if I am ever in a restaurant with you (you being a handsome prince charming who I have never met, sitting on the other side of the room) and I am choking on a bone, please don't come to my rescue. It's quite unnecessary.

All of this of resulted in no-one in my year ever receiving a certificate as we were promised. Now, not only are we completely unqualified in First Aid but we don't even have a piece of paper to put on our CV and make us look more worldly. Fuck you Transition Year you taught me nothing and took all my money.

#twopostsinoneday #proud

What's New

Firstly let me apologise for my last blog post. I was really tired that night and it got really weird so if you haven't read it yet I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't. I have an excuse for the state of this post too: I'm sick.

I woke up yesterday, the first day of my midterm break, with a stomach ache and a chest pain like my lungs had been pumped full of smoke over night. My head felt like a herd of elephants had trampled over it and my throat was as raw as a turkey on Christmas Eve. I got up and drank a glass of orange juice while I waited for the kettle to boil for a mug of Lemsip. After drinking that I returned to bed and fell straight back asleep. An hour or two later I woke and went to the toilet and then immediately vomited the contents of my stomach (orange juice and Lemsip) into the toilet.

If I haven't driven all of my readers away by now with these last two blog posts I don't know how I'll ever get rid of you. Suffice to say I still feel like shit and I'm going to Belfast tomorrow morning. It's mainly just my chest and throat that hurts now but they are bad enough to make me never want to leave my bed again.

I have so many blog posts in my head that I need to type out and some one paper that I need to transfer to my computer. How am I so bad at following schedules?? I really want my own laptop. I think that would be really helpful...and now I'm just typing my train of thought and it's all over the place. I ought to wrap this up before I make it even weirder than the last.

(P.S. I'm not being sponsored by Lemsip or by Lemsip's competition. Though I'd be happy to continue either promoting or degrading their product if anyone feels like paying me. Also any kind of job whatsoever I'd be interested in. Okay bye now.)

Mass Go-ers

Despite the disadvantages of having parents who insist that atheism is a 'phase', going to mass can be interesting if you have the right mindset.

There is an elderly woman of about seventy-five years who normally sits in the row behind my family with her son and his family. She has an unbelievable lack of discretion. Not only does she fart loudly and at a consistent rate throughout the thirty minute service but she also has so little refinement when it comes to whispering. A normal person would speak more quietly than she hisses in her attempt to appear subtle. I'm certain that on more than one occasion the priest on the altar has overheard her hushed conversation. Last week our recently retired parish priest returned to say the service. He had barely taken two steps out of the sacristy when from behind me this woman almost yells, "It's Father Treacy!!"
I jumped at the unexpectedness of this outburst and couldn't retain a snort of laughter, which I later felt bad for. Honestly, she makes my night every Saturday.

Another favourite mass go-er of mine is a woman of about sixty who always sits at the side of the church, always one row in front of the others behind her. She sits alone every week and according to my dad's boundless information on everyone in our parish she has never married and lives alone. She wears perfectly round glasses that are ever so slightly tinted. Almost John Lennon-esque. (Basically these glasses)
To me she seems like such an interesting person and I'd love to be friends with her. I can imagine her being really beautiful when she was younger and for a woman of her age she still is. She's beautiful in such an effortless way as though she doesn't even realise it or perhaps she does but doesn't see a reason to emphasise it. Her khaki trousers, sweater and hiking boots wouldn't accentuate most peoples attractive features. Somehow though it displays her beauty more clearly, in the same way that putting a photo against a white background allows you to appreciate the colours more efficaciously.

This wasn't meant to be a blog about how beautiful old woman can be....I don't know how this happened.

The point of that tangent was that last week she said a reading during the mass service. Bear in mind this is a woman who has sat alone in church my whole life. I've never seen or heard her speak so the last thing I expected was for her to stand up in front of a church full of people and read. She seemed only a little bit nervous. She had such a lovely, enrapturing voice that I, who normally zones out as soon as the mass begins, was mesmerised. It's such a pity that she doesn't read more often because our parish is very lacking in good orators.

I feel like this post was building up to something and it just never got there. What an anticlimax, I apologise.

*Any names used have been altered to protect the privacy of the persons in question.*

Dublin Drabble 11/01/14

I spent last Sunday in Dublin between the BT Young Scientist's and a small bit of retail therapy. I've learned that retail therapy doesn't work on me the same way it does most people. I spent nearly €26 on books in Eason's which is something I never do. And I really don't need any of those books. I love reading and I want to spend more time reading this year but I feel guilty about spending so much money on unnecessaries. (Not to mention the amount of unread books I already have.) Especially with the amount of homeless people I saw on the streets of Dublin. They have to beg to have enough money to buy themselves a meal because no one will employ them because they can't provide a home address. It's a vicious circle. And here I am walking past them in my River Island shoes carrying a bag of paperbacks that will just continue to pile up on my shelves. It makes me want to give away everything I own. Live with the bare essentials. But I concede, I am a hypocrite.

My mum, my sister and I had lunch in a tiny, sardine-tin of a cafe with tables that came just above our knees and obstructively wide armchairs. My sister and I ended up squeezing into two seats just adjacent to a corner table on my left at which a young woman was immersed in a book and a hot beverage of some kind. My mother sat in the chair opposite her as it was the only remaining one in the shop. There were about two inches between our two tables and a small aisle just wide enough for a person to pass down between my table and another on the right. Try to picture us in this squashed little room that smelled of coffee and paper and cakes. Are you jealous yet?

Anyway at this particular table to my right there was seated an elderly woman also reading a book. A few moments after we had settled down a man arrived with two beverages and a slice of fruit cake placing them on her table. He then asked her if she took sugar or milk in her beverage which I assume was tea or coffee, I wasn't paying full attention at that point. She took it black though whatever it was. This was the first thing that struck me as strange about this couple, they clearly weren't well acquainted. This became even more apparent when they began speaking. The woman had a vaguely American accent but it wasn't as strong as if she had lived in the country her whole life so I'd wager she moved there in her adult life. From their conversation, which was not a comfortable encounter, I gathered that the man had a daughter who worked in writing educational textbooks somewhere in Ireland and that the woman also had a niece in the same line of work. The woman talked a little about Florida where she lived and the weather and all those boring things that must be discussed before getting down to the important business. I'd take a guess and say that she had come home to Ireland for a funeral perhaps but I'm really just chancing my arm, if I'm honest.
I unfortunately did not stay long enough to learn what reason they had met up for. Damn those civilised people and their small talk.

Breaking Down

Yesterday was the first day Back after the Christmas holidays. I have to say it was the worst day I've had in years. I can't quite say why. Nothing in particular happened but then those do tend to be the days I hate most.

I seem to be coming to terms with my inner Slytherin. Pottermore may have sorted me into Gryffindor two years ago but I cant say I feel any connection to that house anymore. Maybe I've changed, maybe I used to be brave at heart or maybe I unconsciously cheated on the quiz. Whatever it was I don't feel Gryffindor. I struggled to accept my place in the house when I was first placed there. I'm not really sure if I did finally fit into that persona or I just convinced myself to Gryffindor the fuck up and embrace the house chosen for me. I don't know why I place so much importance on my Hogwarts house. Harry Potter had such a massive impact on my childhood. I can't imagine who I'd be today if I had never read them.

I don't know reader, I don't know. There is so much I don't know. I feel like I've broken a wall inside my head and let out some terrible monster. I'm worried what it's going to do to me.

Resolutions 2014

1. Read: I have acquired an inordinate amount of books that I have not read. They have been taking up space on my bookshelves for years and it's time I read them. By the end of this year I plan to have read every book that I own.
2. Blog: I want to blog regularly and frequently throughout 2014. The plan is to blog every Wednesday from now until June when I will reassess my goals.
3. Study: I want to improve my grades this year. In August I decided I was going to do my absolute best in every subject. I now realise how ridiculous an idea that was. Firstly, how can anyone know what there best is? I'm not sure that's something I am actually capable of discovering. So my new aim is to study with the belief that I'll get a A in everything. As of now I'm confident that that is something I can achieve. I may prove myself wrong but that's the whole purpose of this exercise. By May I intend to get 7 A s in my summer exam.
4. Be Tidier: Every Saturday I'm going to hoover my room. In order to hoover you need to clean up the floor so that will help motivate me. Yep.
5. Be more organised: Have every moment of my life timetabled and follow it. I got a smart phone for Christmas (Sony Xperia) and I have a planner app. So now I can be on my phone and actually feel like I'm being productive. I have a timetable made out for every day of the week to help me stay focused and prioritise my tasks.

Additional Resolutions:

1. Wear more colour: I normally wear a lot of black because I'm too lazy to bother thinking about what colours work well together. Wearing bright colours make me feel more vibrant and puts me in a better mood, when they coordinate of course. Obviously I don't have much choice over the my school uniform but I can still wear nail varnish. And that's what I plan to do. Wear nail varnish every day. That'll brighten my life up foo shoo.
2. Poetry: I've discovered a new and beautiful love of poetry this year. I have always really like how poets make the words flow with such rhythm but I learned more about it this year. Specifically spoken word poetry which my friends introduced me to a couple of months ago. I want to read, write and listen to more poetry this year. Lots more.
3. Play piano: Were going to try this again this year.
4. Learn ukulele: Ditto.

DON'T GIVE UP JUST WORK HARDER!!!

happy new year y'all.