College or some'm

I'm in college.

In fact, my first semester of first year is already over. Next week my exams start. (Yes, it all makes sense now why I'm back blogging again - procrastination!)

This semester has gone by so quickly and I don't feel as though I've done enough. I don't think I've socialised enough, studied enough, got involved enough, tried enough, talked enough, eaten enough, learned enough thought enough. There hasn't been the time for it all.

I've dreamed of going away to college all my life. As a child it was the only thing I wanted, my greatest aspiration - it epitomised growth, confidence and knowledge. As I got older I was terrified of the idea. I was certain I was going to fail. Fail at being an adult, at making new friends, at my course - everything! I still wanted it but now I was harrowed by doubt and anxiety.

And today here I am. How was my first semester? Quick. Frightening. Exciting. Freeing.
I'm trying to hang on to that last word. Freeing. I have more freedom than I have ever known these days and with that, responsibility. It's difficult coming to terms with it all in such a short time.

I don't know I've spoken about the three step rule to liking things before on this blog, chances are yes. Anyway the way it plays out,normally with people but apparently also with things, is that first I love-them-with-all-the-intensity-of a-thousand-suns, then I become dillilusioned once I realise they aren't perfect and then finally I accept and love them for who/what they are. Without exception this has happened to me with every close friend I've had. Now it's happening with college.

When I arrived here I was terrified but soon my fears were put to rest because everyone was in the same boat and everyone was kind and helpful and friendly. I began to get comfortable, I made excessive (for me) efforts to talk and connect with people. I joined societies and committees and everything was going well.
Then I started to encounter the not so fun sides. The fuckboys, the two-faced gossipers, I realised I still hadn't made any genuine friends despite having plenty of people who I talk to on a regular basis. It's study week and I'm still procratinating as ever. We don't seem to leaning anything in suffiecient detail, everything is just brief and vague.
So University isn't perfect. When I'm alone I'm worried I spend too much time by myself and when I'm socialising I'm worried I'm not spending enough time by myself. Life is tricky and complicated and I don't really know what I want out of it. But this is college. This is what I've spent years waiting for. At the very least, I'm glad to have moved away from home.

Friday

I'm sitting in the dark of my room listening to the rain fall against the skylight like continuous fingers pattering against the glass. It's 9:49 on a Friday night. I feel listless and anxious and cold. I came home from school today and watched Stuck In Love and without meaning to got caught up how problematic a film it is. Then to cheer myself up I watched 27 Dresses which happens to be a terrible movie but the message I got from it was a lot nicer than 'SIL'.

Summer is coming soon. That's a double edged sword. On the one hand I can't wait for school to end. On the other hand it means exams that dictate the rest of my life, and the beginning of the end of my future. If anyone has any suggestions for what I should do with my life please comment below.

I'm tired. Tired of a lot of things. I'm tired of not knowing myself and not knowing what I need. I'm tired of being so impatient that I give up on anything that doesn't produce immediate results. I'm just so tired.

I won't blog again for several weeks, maybe months. You didn't need me to say that, you already knew.

Hashtag Boyfriend

I wrote this last Sunday night and forgot to publish it. As per usual.

Boyfriend came to my house for the first time today. Which meant the first official meeting with my parents – obviously discounting the time he drunkenly asked my dad for his permission to go on a date with me. That’s a story for another time.

I was very nervous for this to happen. Largely because I feel like I've sort of forced him into it even though force is too strong a word. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the idea. I've been to his house and briefly met his parents so it not exactly out of place for me to expect him to also come to mine. We had arranged it at a previous date but then we had a sort of argument and he fell sick so couldn't make it.

Last week I brought it up again and he was very against the idea because he’s nervous and a little awkward and also I probably make my parents out to sound like psychopaths. I guess I pushed it a little, as in I didn’t simply accept that this wasn’t going to happen. Because it kind of has to at some point anyway? I by no means demanded it however. Anyway he wasn’t convinced. The following day I brought it up in conversation again. It was a very smooth, very casual entrance and by no means pushy at all.  He mentioned that his record player was fixed and so I could play the record he got me for Christmas at his house some time. I half-jokingly said you should come to my house first. To which he never replied. And the following day he never replied. So two days later he sends me a random text about the reasons for Hagrid getting expelled from Hogwarts. Boys, am I right?

The result was anyway that he brought up later in the conversation the possibility of visiting my house this weekend. Which thoroughly took me by surprise. But Sunday arrived and so did The Boyf. I was nervous because I thought my parents would barrage him with a flock of questions. He was nervous for similar reasons, I don’t doubt. My parents introduced themselves, my dad shook his hand (ugh) and then they left. Like actually left the house. They had some ‘errands’ to ‘attend to’ in ‘town’. Who knows what that was about and I surely don’t care. I was just glad they were leaving.

My brother also left not long after to go training (he’s an athlete lol what a weirdo) and my sister doesn’t leave the room when there are strangers about. So we spent the afternoon/evening in the sitting room watching Gone Girl and later The Royal Tenenbaums. When my family returned some hours later and it was time to eat I became increasingly anxious. I’ll try and explain. To a certain extent I felt responsible and slightly guilty for the fact that he was at my house at all. I know that’s not being fair on myself but it’s how I feel. Anything that happened would be as a result of my asking him to come. I really didn’t want to scare him off. I didn’t want my parents to make him uncomfortable or assault him with unnecessary conversation. I didn’t want his first experience of my family to be a bad one.

(It’s striking my just now how little I care about what my parents and siblings think of him. Honestly, that was never something that I even thought about except briefly. I feel like I should perhaps be worried that I care so little for their opinion.)

Anyway due to my not wanting to scare him away I tried to rush through the meal as quickly as possible. No easy task when my mother decides to cook for a rugby team. Two massive bowls full of chips and chicken goujons, a pizza, cupcakes, and some kind of cake covered in marzipan and chocolate. Jesus mother, how many boyfriends were you expecting?

Conversation was alright for the most part. Unfortunately my mother decided the best way to fill any kind of silence was with questions like “How’s school? Are you working hard this year? What do you want to do in college? What do you want to do after college?” Not even kidding, those were the exact questions she put to him. I finished up and we quickly migrated back to the sitting room where we continued watching The Royal Tenenbaums.

My other brother who is a teacher was in Dublin all weekend. I don’t even think he was aware of the fact that I have a boyfriend which makes the following story so much worse. We heard the car pull up outside and him enter through the front door as we hastily moved so that there was an inch of space between us on the couch. A moment later he opened the sitting room door and stood in the entrance for a moment before wavering backwards slightly, out of what I can only assume was shock. He stood there for a full two seconds before stuttering, “Oh…is…um…anyone around…or…” To which I directed him to the kitchen where my family had been forced to spend the evening. I can’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking. He comes home after being gone for a mere two days and his sister on a couch with a strange boy who he had no notion even existed. All he wanted was to return after a long journey to relax on the couch in front of the fire and suddenly it has been invaded by some random guy getting cosy with his sister. No wonder he nearly fell over with shock.

At around 8:15 pm my boyfriend’s dad arrived and they left together. That was it. He was gone and nobody had died. It almost seemed anticlimactic but in the best kind of way. I texted him later to make sure he didn’t die from a delayed shock reaction and he said it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected and he actually had fun. He even said he’d come again. Yeah. We came from not talking to me for nearly two days because I mentioned it, to willingly agreeing to do it again. Amazing.

Later while ironing my shirt for school the following morning my dad tried to talk to me. He does that every now and again and it’s rarely comfortable for either of us. I’m almost proud of him though. He genuinely seems to be really trying to be fine with this. He said Boyfriend was “A nice quiet little chap” which I suppose is a good thing. He comes up with the weirdest compliments, my dad does.

The whole event went much better than either of us had dared hope. It's a relief that it's over all the same. I'm definitely not going to be pushing for it to happen again.

A Challenging Ignorance

I never quite understood the mechanics of a romantic relationship. Why was it so different to a friendship? Why was it so difficult to have a clean breakup? Why, even with a clean breakup, is it difficult for the people involved to completely move on?

I put these unanswered questions, and more, down to my own ignorance and lack of experience. I have always feigned empathy in situations that required it because I had literally know comprehension of the complex affairs of the heart.

For the past two months, or there abouts, I have had a boyfriend. He's strange. Our relationship is strange. Sometimes I'm not even sure it's exactly healthy but I think everyone has moments like that. Provided the good vastly out weighs the bad, you're probably fine. The thing with us is that I'm never quite sure where I stand. That's a strong statement to make but please don't be alarmed. Here me out.

He's a seventeen year old boy and I'm a seventeen year old girl. I like to think I'm quite mature for my age and my mother likes to back me up on that, though I can never tell if it's just empty flattery on her behalf. In anyone's opinion I think he would be considered immature. That's not meant as an insult, just a fact. And though this is my personal blog I don't feel comfortable going into details about him here, for his own privacy.

I'm not the kind of person who has dreamed about falling in love or even having my first kiss or sex for the first time. Of course I went through a phase where I thought the one thing that would prove my worth would be to secure a boyfriend. After all, what girl has not been taught that the ultimate goal for her is to make a man want her? But excessive reading and becoming aware of feminism has long ago helped me come to the realisation that I don't need anyone else to tell me I'm important. I will only ever be as important as I believe I am.

I suppose you could say I've had a fairly negative opinion of relationships for several years now. When I say negative - that's really far too strong a word to use. What I mean is that I saw dating as something other people did, something I might/probably would want to do at some point in the future but right there and then, I did not. I didn't desire a boyfriend or a girlfriend or any kind of romantic or sexual partner (save for those occasional moments of loneliness or, let's face it, just pure lust).

I also had this impression that being in an exclusive relationship somehow meant missing out on the finer parts of life. What these 'finer parts' were I have no idea however I'm pretty sure I've been missing out on them long before I had a boyfriend.
Then of course comes my general aversion to monogamy. I'm learning however that polygamy and/or an open relationship and the likes, involves more than simply deciding "I'm cool with seeing other people while my boyfriend sees other people." I'd like to think I'm capable of trusting someone and feeling comfortable enough with myself to be in that kind of relationship but I can also acknowledge that it's not for everybody. Emotions and self-esteem get in the way. Things can get messy very quickly if everyone involved doesn't know exactly where they stand.

So back to my current relationship. I'm of the belief that for a relationship to work consistent communication is required between all partners. It's difficult to make someone talk when they don't want to. It's also difficult to uphold a relationship when your partner gets defensive any time you try to have a real conversation with them. I'm not completely guiltless, I'm well aware of that too. But when someone is so sensitive and insecure it becomes challenging to say anything without fear of offending him - well that's not a great situation. I know, I'm making it sound pretty bad. Sometimes it is quite bad. But is it bad that I don't actually care?

In the past couple of weeks our communication has reduced even more due to my own lack of motivation. I don't see why I should constantly have to be the one forcing him to open up. So I've stopped trying. I no longer care. I'm not sure if I don't care about the relationship or about him or simply about his lack of forwardness. This confusion has led me to consider whether it would simply be better to finish it now. If he doesn't seem to care enough to talk and neither do I, then what are we even doing?

On the other hand however, I think this is possibly the most low-maintenance relationship I'll ever be in. I always said I'd love a relationship where we didn't feel the need to talk every day. One that wasn't so intense that I distracted me from my other life goals. Now that I'm in a relationship that is almost exactly that, I'm just not sure I like it. At the same time, I'm not ready to give up on it yet. This was my idea of the perfect relationship. Maybe it's not quite how I expected it but I need to at least give it a chance. Relationships are weird. I've always known that. Now I've finally realised that I was in fact, not so ignorant after all.

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.