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.

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.*

Hey Again.

It's Christmas Day and I'm trying to finish writing this as I started it a few days ago.
I sometimes wonder what I'd be like if I was pretty. If I exercised a lot and lost weight and my legs toned out and my skin cleared up I wonder how I would feel about myself. I'm not confident in my appearance but also I'm not very insecure about it. I mean I don't expect that anyone finds me attractive or ever will the way I currently look but I'm okay with how I look. I'd rate my appearance a 6/10 and my insecurity over my appearance, maybe 4/10. I'd like to be prettier obviously but I'm not quite sure why anymore.

You see, most of my insecurities lie in things beneath my physical appearance. They lie in things like how worthy I am of people's friendships, how the fuck I'm capable of surviving in this world and how I seem completely incapable of trying my best at anything. I know that if I were able to eliminate or even improve on these flaw I'd feel so much better about myself and more confident in my existence. But I don't know whether anything would change at all if I were beautiful on the outside.

Next year. 2014. I want something to change. I want to understand myself and fucking take control of my life. Merry Christmas everyone and I hope you have a successful 2014.

Life Happens

Life is great. I'm on top of my school work, my Christmas exams are over, my mother's trying to control my life but that's just a phase she goes through - it'll pass. My social anxiety (for lack of a better term) is better than it has ever been, which isn't much by normal standards but it's the most freeing thing I've ever experienced.

So why am I so sad? I haven't got any specific reason for feeling this way and it makes me think that I don't have the right to feel unhappy right now. Like my minor worries aren't important enough in the grand scale of the world. I know you oughtn't to judge yourself compared to others and that every problem is uniquely dealt with but preaching and practising are so very far from each other.

I always have the feeling that I'm not doing anything worthwhile with my life. It's a boredom and a fear and it's a terrible, terrible flaw.
At the beginning of this year one of my resolutions was to write every day and though I was doing quite well keeping to this I decided about half way through the year that I didn't want to be writing anymore. I regret this decision for many reasons not only because writing allows me to examine my thoughts and understand myself better but also because I have recently rediscovered my love of writing. And I mean writing as a noun not a verb. I love the flow of word to word across a page, the scrawl of a familiar handwriting, I love simple wordplay that creates such beautiful humour. I just love writing, man. It's the most awe inspiring art that will ever pass through my mind. I miss it too and though I wish I was actually good at it I still enjoy scribbling rubbish onto a sheet.

I don't have a point to this post except to update my blog because it has been far too long. Hopefully that won't happen again.

OMG MORE SCHOOL

I know I'm probably boring all my non-existent readers to death by not writing for a month and then just talking about school again but fact is I have nothing else going on in my life. La vida de los jóvenes puede ser muy triste.

I ought to be studying or writing my history essay or some such boring activity right now but as the old saying goes, why do today what you can put off until tomorrow. That's what they say, isn't it?

I look at other people in my school and I know that they are working today as they plan to next year again, they're keeping on top of their work and getting the highest grades they can achieve. And I know they're doing this so they won't fall behind next year and have to stress out before the Leaving Cert exams. They're doing it so they'll get good grades and get into the college of their choice.

I can see all of this from an outsider's point of view. Like I'm not the one in the exact same position. It hasn't yet hit me that I'm doing my leaving cert next year. My last year of school is next year. I'll have to start applying to colleges next year. Thinking about what course I want to do, NEXT YEAR. It feels like yesterday when I was a little twelve year old starting secondary school. Yesterday when went to Germany on my second year school trip. Yesterday when I did my Junior cert examinations. Yesterday when I went to Rome with my friends.

We enter this world and are told we can be anyone, do anything we want. We are given encouragement that is just lies as the people around us know that eventually we will realise that technically we can do whatever we love but most of us will choose that which pays well. Even now, less than half a year from becoming seventeen, people still chuck at me the shit they so desperately want to believe themselves. And by people yes, of course I mean adults. Teachers, parents, hopeful young adults, they all want to believe that they are getting somewhere with their lives. They are encouraging young students to get the best out of life and follow their dreams. They are raising inspirational teenagers who will change the world. They are saying things and doing things as much to convince themselves as to convince us.

I know there are people who make a solid living out of what they love. I know there are people who love their lives and want for nothing. I know there are people who are truly making a difference in this world.
I know it's not as hopeless a place as I've made out but there just don't seem to be enough happy people out there.

Is it really so difficult to find the thing you love doing and do it?

Rants and Ramblings

I've been enjoying BEDA more than I imagined I could this past month but the last few days I haven't been in the mood. It's been great having something that I have to do every day but I'm tiring of it. I'll stick it out to the end though of course. Only a week or so left.

I've been getting back into twitter recently after banishing it from my life for maybe a year. I'm not nearly witty enough for it but I still enjoy the simplicity of such short messages. It allows me to just release thoughts from my mind without feeling like I'm annoying people like I would on facebook, because anyone who is following me is doing it because they chose to and not because they know me in real life and feel some obligation to keep up the pretence that we stay in touch or something. (I don't really no why I'm friends with half the people on facebook.) And I don't know if this spewing of thoughts is a good thing, I know many people complain that it is the worst part of the internet. The fact that 'young people' have a place where they can complain and bitch and they forget that it's 'forever online'.

My parents are getting really clingy and I'm not liking it at all. They keep talking to me and my sister about the 'dangers of the world' and I'm freaking out that they'll send me to a fucking convent or something equally drastic. I'm well aware of how fucked up this world is, possible more so than they are, but locking me up until I'm 21 isn't going to make me any less vulnerable to the dangers. It'll do the exact opposite and I'm worried they really don't see that. I get that they see it as their responsibility to protect me while I'm still a minor but I don't suddenly become self-sufficient when I'm 21, which in their books is an adult. I resent their subconscious belief that growing up is about a number when that is the biggest load of bullshit.
They treat me like I'm some inbecile who only follows other people. Like I can't think for myself and decide what is the 'right' thing to do. They judge everyone based on their own narrow minded traps and assume that we all think exactly the same.

I'm starting to feel what I've always heard people say about teenagers. That they think they know better than everyone else. I'm not saying that I do but it sure as hell feels that way right now. It's starting to feel like I'm the only one with any real sense in this god forsaken place and I can tell you school can't start soon enough for me. I'm sick of my family's company.

The Chronicles of a Childhood Drama Queen #1

I was a stuck up, arrogant, vain, selfish little girl when I was younger. I can see that, now that I've grown up somewhat. I know I could have been so much worse, I could have been a bully, but I think it’s important to realise that just because someone was the victim of bullying as a child, or teenager, it doesn't mean they were nice innocent people at the time. (For the record, children aren't innocent they are fucking monsters, don’t trust them.)

So like I said I could have been a bully and made life horrible for others but I was so wrapped up in my own life and making sure I got what I wanted that I didn't care much for anyone. So here follows the story of my childhood and my realisation that I was not a golden wonder child that glowed inside and out.

I didn't attend pre-school, instead I started Junior Infants at four years of age in a tiny school in the middle of a tiny parish inhabited mainly by old age pensioners (sorry, ‘senior citizens’). There were three girls, one boy and myself in my class. Our school was so small that the first four classes consisting of children 4-9 year olds, were in one classroom and the older four classes of 9-12 year olds were in another. We had two teachers, a secretary and a special education teacher who came in a couple of times a week to help kids with slight learning disabilities. This was the place I spent my first eight years of education. This was where I met my first friend, first enemy, first crush, first bully. It was a place of many firsts for me and in this series of blog posts I plan to tell them to you for the first time.

For the first 3-4 years of school my life was pretty simple, I knew how everything worked, I got on well with my class, I stayed out of the way of big kids and the teachers liked me. My best friend was your stereotypical perfect-popular girl. Well, you know, for seven year olds. Loved by teachers and students alike she was pretty and clever and had an older brother which gave her special ‘Big One’ privileges in the playground. (Like for real, we called the older kids the Big Ones and the youngers the Little Ones. Also everyone in the Little Ones classroom referred to the teacher as Yes. No-one ever understood why but we always did it. I think it must have stemmed from the mishearing of Miss. But no-one ever questioned it we just always called her that. She gave up trying to stop the habit. It went on for years, as in from the time I started school to after I left. For all I know it’s still happening. Then magically when we entered the Big Ones classroom we stopped. It was social suicide for a Big One to call a teacher Yes. And of course we immediately picked up the habit of mocking the Little Ones for calling their teacher Yes. Children can be so naively cruel.)

Everyone wanted to be BFFs with this girl, who for the purpose of this blog we will refer to as B. (Because A could get confusing.)

There was another girl in my class who desperately wanted to be best friends with B. We’re going to call her C. Understand that I hated this girl, C. She was trying to steal my best friend and that was something I couldn’t afford to let happen. Besides that she was just a nasty child, in my childly opinion. She was unintelligent, unfriendly and unpretty. You don’t have to tell me I was a shallow bitch. It’s not that I was even a particularly attractive child, I just had a majorly high opinion of myself and therefore a really low one of everyone else. C was also a major tell-tale, which ought to have won her countless enemies but somehow she still managed to stay high up in the social chain. I credited this to the way she dogged B’s heels as though afraid she would lose sight of her for a second. As well as all this she was the worst person I've ever known for bragging. She got all the newest games and consoles and dolls as well as clothes, DVDs, music, anything she wanted. She lost no time in making sure everyone knew she had them. She always had a story to tell about something interesting, great or funny that she or someone she knew had done - which incidentally never was interesting, great or funny at all, but it never stopped her from telling everyone. And of course she was trying  to steal my best friend. Not to mentioned that she clearly hated me. I have to be honest when I say that she was the first person I experienced bullying from. She did everything to keep me away from B so that she could be alone with her to talk about everyone in the school. I can’t recall the particulars but I know she made many a bitchy comment to me and though I was never one to believe people who told me kids were only mean because they were jealous, but I know for a fact that with C it was pure jealousy through and through. I think she believed herself that I was really B’s Bestest friend and it ate her up inside. When questioned, as she was weekly by C, who her BFFF was, B would respond that we were both her BFFFs! But of course I knew, I knew that she only said that to spare C’s feelings! Truly I was her only BFFF!

I’ve mentioned very little about the third girl in my class who becomes very important later on. For now it’s enough to say that she was part of our friend group but none of us had any say in the friends we had as there was so little choice in our sorry excuse for a school. We all went to each others parties, played together at lunch, invited each other to our houses and acted very much as though we were friends. In truth the only person I liked was B and only then because she popular and known by everyone. Almost subconsciously I saw her as a way to stay at the top of the social tower and even though then I didn’t understand the full importance of social life I knew I was safer being at the top.

None of us shared anything in common because none of us had any real interests. Looking back I realise how much my childhood was controlled by others. We played with the toys that were advertised on TV, we listened to the music that was played on the radio, we watched the shows that everyone was talking about, but none of it because we viewed it as good. We did it because everyone else was and we knew no different. That's what being a child is about. It's about following others because we have not yet discovered what is ours. It's about doing as we're told before we figure out why. No one explains anything to you as a child, you have to pick up pieces as you go and eventually build the full picture. Even when you're older you're constantly build a bigger and greater picture, one that is never complete until you have all the information that exists about everything. Which simply is not available at this time. But growing up is about using what you know to make your own decisions rather than just following orders. That is what makes the difference between a child and an adult.

Also Setting Goals

A couple of days ago Danielle wrote a post about setting realistic goals and knowing what is the best that you can do. Before setting goals you need to figure out what your limitations are, as difficult as this might be. I like to compare setting goals to buying insurance. Before buying say, house insurance, you have to value your house. Overvaluing it is pointless because you'll end up paying a higher premium and still only ever receive compensation for the real value. Undervaluing is an equally bad idea as you won't be compensated for the necessary amount, in the event damage.
The same goes in setting goals for yourself. Underestimating your abilities will only succeed in preventing yourself from reaching your full potential and overconfidence in your capacity leads to huge disappointments when the inevitable failure arrives.

My aim this school year is to figure out what my capabilities are. I'm going to push myself to the limit and work harder than I've ever done before. I need to know honestly how capable I am in terms of academia because up until now I've always done as little work as possible without disappointing myself with complete failure. I've accepted whatever grade I got because I knew that I hadn't worked my hardest. I didn't care very much as long as I passed.

But I'm going into Leaving Cert now and I still don't know what I want to do when I leave school. Because of this I really want to keep my options wide open by getting the highest possible points I can in the exam. I plan to figure out what exactly that is by working as hard as I know how this year.

My Favourite...

So today's theme is favourite. Just one favourite. My ultimate favourite. My favourite of favourites. Yeah I've done it, favourite doesn't look like a real word anymore...

I hate choosing favourites, it's something I have steadfastly refused to do in the past but here we are and I need to decide what is the one thing I love most in the world. And I think I have to choose Green Day.

When it comes to music I was a pretty late bloomer. When I was younger I didn't know anything about the charts or what music was popular, hell the only singer I even knew the name of was Britney Speares and I didn't really know any of her music. All of my friends would talk about new songs that were out and their favourite singers and I'd pretend I knew exactly what they were talking about and agree that the new Beyoncé song was the super catchy. I was about ten when I first started listening to the radio at home and singing along to the current chart toppers. My first love was Rihanna and Avril Lavigne but I then discovered a slightly more rock station that didn't constantly play the newest pop. This was where I first heard of Green Day.

I fell in love with their music and Billie Joe Armstrong's voice immediately. It honestly was love at first listen. Everything about their sound enchanted me and awakened something in my heart that no other music ever had before. They opened my mind to a world outside of the romance focused pop I was used to. So after that I spent hours listening to the radio waiting and hoping that they would play Green Day. And when they did I sang along as loudly as I dared with my bedroom door closed hoping my siblings wouldn't hear and come to mock me. (The joy of having older brothers.)

Billie Joe was my first celebrity crush. Before I even knew what he looked like I was obsessed. He was the first person I ever idolised and still remains a massive role model to me. I don't remember when I eventually saw the band for the first time but it only increased my love for them. Their look matched so perfectly with their sound and it was everything I had expected. Everything from Billie Joe's hair and guy-liner to Tré's slightly creepy, cheeky smile and Mike's tattoos escalated my obsession until they were practically all I thought about.

I remember when their album 21st Century Breakdown was released and to my ecstatic delight, their songs became more frequent occurrences on the radio. I learned to recognise their songs just by the first guitar cord and would immediately jump up to turn up the volume. I could even recognise a song I'd never heard before by Billie Joe's voice after a single syllable sometimes. He has incredibly unique vocals and the most beautiful, mesmerizing voice I've ever heard.

Green Day has shaped who I am today, the music I listen to, my sense of humour and many of my values. I can't imagine the person I would be if I had never discovered they're music at such a young age because they introduced me to such realism and authenticity that defines this world. They have been the single most influential thing in my life so it's only right I name them my favourite. My favourite favourite.

The Ice Cream Expert

Yesterday I made ice-cream which it looks beautiful and tastes like heaven. So now I will show it to you and teach you how to do the same.

And as my Junior Cert Home Ec. teacher would say, no dish is complete without a garnish!

I took the original recipe from 'smart savvy living' and made three different flavours with it. So here is my super easy ice-cream recipe.

Total Ingredients (Everthing you need!):

464g / 2 cups double cream

397g / 14 ounces condensed milk

88g dark chocolate

2 tbs cocoa powder

4 tbs whole grain flour or plain flour

4 tbs granulated (caster) sugar

2 tbs vegetable oil

2 tbs water

60 ml / 4 tbs Golden syrup

100g granulated (caster) sugar

1 1/2 tsp bread (bicarbonate) soda

Strawberries/raspberries/blueberries etc. (quantity according to your preference)

Chocolate Brownies:

2 tbs cocoa powder

4 tbs whole grain flour or plain flour

(whole grain gives a grittier, oatier texture which I like especially in the ice-cream)

4 tbs granulated (caster) sugar

2 tbs vegetable oil

2 tbs water

(I used a microwave brownie recipe for this dish because it's quick and easy and I didn't have enough chocolate to make regular brownies as well as ice-cream.)

1. Put the sugar, flour and cocoa in a bowl and mix.
2. Add the oil and water and stir until combined.
3. Spread onto a microwave proof plate and flatten.
4. Microwave for 60 - 90 seconds. They should still quite soft but not gooey.
5. Cut into small, bite-sized chunks (remember they will be very hard when frozen) and allow to cool.

Honeycomb:

60 ml / 4 tbs Golden syrup

100g granulated (caster) sugar

1 1/2 tsp bread (bicarbonate) soda

1. Put the sugar and and syrup into a saucepan and stir together.
2. Place pan on the heat and let mixture first melt, then turn to goo and then to a bubbling mass - approx. 3 minutes. Do not stir once on the heat.
3. Take off the heat and and whisk in the bread soda. Once it has risen into an aerated cloud turn immediately onto a sheet of greased baking parchment. Do not attempt to spread it once poured out.
4. Leave until it has set and gone hard, then bash so that it breaks into smithereens.

Other Ingredients

464g / 2 cups double cream

397g / 14 ounces condensed milk

88g dark chocolate

Making the Ice-cream:

1. Divide the condensed milk into three different bowls, each containing approximately the same quantity.
2. Chop up your selection of berries into small chunks, always keeping in mind that they will be frozen solid.
3. Stir in the fruit into one bowl and the broken honeycomb into another. Leave the brownie aside for now.
4. I used 88g of dark chocolate because it was all that was in my house but apply the quantity to your own preference. I did turn out a deliciously rich chocolate fyi.
5. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over a pot of water or in the microwave.
6. While chocolate is melting beat the double cream with an electric mixer until thick but not overly stiff.
7. Stir the melted chocolate into the remaining bowl of condensed milk until combined. Then add the chunk of brownie and mix.
8. Gently fold in a third of the cream into each bowl and continue mixing until smooth.
9. Pour into Tupperware containers, cover and freeze for 6 hours.

Parachutes are important, okay?

Danielle and I were looking at blog post idea generators for inspiration. And they are really bad. Like super awful. So naturally we decided to use them.

Welcome to 'Everything You Never Wanted To Know About Parachutes' ft. Incredibly Awful Puns.

1. Coldplay fell into the music industry with their debut album Parachutes in 2000.

2. Parachute is a town in Colorado, USA with a descending population of approximately 1,006.

3. Parachute is the brand name of a selection of coconut based hair products. Unfortunately their sales have dropped dramatically in recent years.

4. Parachuting is a slang term for wrapping powdered drugs in toilet paper and swallowing, to prevent tasting the chemicals. But unlike regular parachuting, this doesn't  lessen the plunge after being so high.

5. Parachute journalism is the term given when a reporter is dropped into reporting on an area where they have little knowledge. This sort of management regularly leads to a down-fall in accurate journalism.

6. Parachute pants reached their peek in popularity during the 1980s due to the high numbers of people, mainly male, who became part of the cultural obsession with breakdancing. One could say the parachute pants helped break their fall, or were at least more comfortable to wear when falling in with the music.

7. Within a BDSM relationship a parachute collar may be used to fasten around the scrotum and hang weights from it on chains. Personally I find this behaviour a bit of a drag but many people are up for it.

8. Parachute is a Christian music festival held in New Zealand that has been flying rings around every other multi-day festival outside of the US since 1991.

Don't tell me I didn't try super hard to make this topic interesting for you. I promise to work on better puns for next time. (NEXT TIME? I hear you wail. I'm sorry my friend, I truly am.)

What is Fashion?

I used to find the whole idea of trends and fashion completely materialistic, I thought it didn't fit in with my values at all. Since then I've taken myself down a notch and re-evaluated a lot of my beliefs. It's safe to say I was stuck pretty far up my own behind at that time but I like to think I've crawled back out now.

I don't like putting a lot of effort into my own styling of the clothing I wear and I'm not very skilled at that kind of thing. Literally the only rule of styling that I knew before this summer was don't wear navy-blue and black together. While spending three weeks in an Irish summer college, I learned from my friend that you also shouldn't wear something baggy on top and bottom. If you're wearing baggy trousers wear a tight top and vice versa. I think that is just one of her rules though. She did try to educate me on other rules in styling too but I've forgotten them all by now. Shows you exactly how much interest I have in it.

It annoys me however that so much emphasis is put on what we wear. If want to slouch around in my comfy tracksuits I shouldn't have to bother about how people will think of me. I also find it weird that there are dress codes to specific events and that tracksuits and jeans aren't acceptable clothing in many work environments. This brings me on to hair colour and style, piercings, tattoos etc. Why is it that we live in a culture that frowns upon a lack of effort in the clothing department and then frowns upon an effort to accessorise one's body? Is it that we have some innate belief that laziness is bad and because these accessories are permanent that implies the user is some kind of waster? I honestly can't figure it out. On the outside our society encourages individuality and uniqueness but in practice it does everything possible to drag us into conformity.

And to me that is what fashion is all about. It's an art form used to express a sense of originality and self identity and when done well it can be one of the most powerful expressions of opinion. The problem is that conventional fashion has turned into the complete opposite of that. Trends are set by some unknown identity (that may be a fashion designer or may be an evil dictator fulfilling their dream of world domination) and people follow them. Where is the creativity? Where is the expression of thought? It amazes me that we have succeeded in turning what was once a clear outlet for making a statement into another monotonous queue of sheep. This is why we can't have nice things.

The Breaking of a Free Spirit

Last night I attended a showing of the Taming of the Shrew by the Globe theatre production company on tour. I'm not going to do a review on the show or talk their performance - suffice to say they were wonderful and entertaining and if you ever get a chance to see them live don't miss it. But today I want to talk about the story. SPOILER ALERT, obviously.

The Taming of the Shrew may be a well known as a Shakespearean comedy but by the end it felt much like a death had occurred. Which in some sense it had. The story follows a wealthy man, Baptista's two daughters Katherina and Bianca, the first and eldest is difficult and independent, the second and younger beautiful and humble. Many suitors come to win Bianca's hand in marriage but her father refuses to allow her until her elder sister is wedded first. So it falls that Petruchio arrives and encouraged by Katherina's expansive dowry agrees to woo her. Intrigued by his eagerness where every other man has been afraid ever to step and his charming way with words, she permits his presence. Petruchio announces then that she is completely in love with him and despite her protests declares them to be wed the following Sunday. At the wedding Petruchio turns up late in a drunken state and assaults the priest before carrying Katherina away against her will, claiming her as his property just as much as his lands and house.
In his home he deprives her of food, sleep and clean clothing claiming for his reasons that she is too good for any of it. His true objective is however to force her into obedience like one would a dog or a horse.

If you have read the play or watched the film you might be thinking that I'm over reacting with my feminist views but I'm telling you what was in the play I saw. I have previously watched the film and though I felt slightly uncomfortable at times, it seemed as though Katherina could give as good as she got when it came to Petruchio. In the live performance though I did not see this. It bore every resemblance to an abusive relationship, both physical and psychological and I felt sick watching it.

I have never been more disgusted and afraid for human kind than sitting there in my seat listening to the raucous laughter from the audience as Petruchio forced his wife to greet an elderly gentleman as a young maiden. That a woman so determined and self-governing, so unwilling to be anyone's wife could so quickly be turned into a feeble and powerless slave to her husband - it was heartbreaking to watch.

I was ready to start sobbing by the end but a sort of shock seemed to hold back the tears that brimmed my eyes. Katherina's closing speech was in reference to a bet Petruchio had made with two other gentlemen about who's wife was the most submissive and compliant. Her own eyes filled with tears she had declared under Petruchio's order that a wife duty was to serve her husband in his every want and there was no point in refusing to do so for it would only start a war that she could not possibly win. It was easier then, to follow his orders to keep the peace for no good would ever come from fighting her husband.

"I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;"

She implored to anyone for a reason why women's bodies were so fragile and weak compared to men's and her sister and the others stared open mouthed at the shocking transformation that had come over her. Bianca, who was previously seen as a soft-willed woman was horrified at how yielding her older sister had become and appeared in comparison to be immensely confident and self-determining.

I say it is a Shakespearean tragedy because by the end of the story Katherina's will was broken and her freedom murdered. I don't mean anything against the Globe Theatre company because they put on a magnificent performance nor do I suggest you strive to take any values of Shakespeare from this play because a person's writing may in no way reflect their beliefs. I just wanted to have a little rant.

A Formal Appearance: REVIEWED

Can we talk about The Casual Vacancy? I finished reading it last night so if you haven't read it and you want to know nothing about it I don't think I need to tell you to get lost. Having said that I'm not going to give away any spoilers, only what is necessary for you to understand what I'm talking about. I want to discuss why I think it hasn't received the good reviews I think it deserves.

In my humble opinion J.K. Rowling's first adult novel is a fucking masterpiece of writing. The way she creates such a huge variety of detailed characters is something I can only dream of ever achieving. She has a gift for getting inside of the characters' mind and personality and scrutinizing every action and decision they make bringing it back full circle so there is not a single question about their reasoning left unanswered. The vastness of every character in this book has left me awestruck, I'm not exaggerating. The diversity between characters too is something that must have taken so much time and effort. I imagine that before even starting the novel she wrote essays on each and every character to fully define their beliefs, fears and dreams and work out their personal development through the novel. I have already known from the extra writing released after Harry Potter just how much thought and work Rowling puts into her characters but this is more evident than ever in ACV.

Throughout reading it the main thought in my head was how 'real' the novel is. In many ways it seems the direct opposite the Harry Potter books. Where as HP is a very black and white, good versus evil story, ACV challenges what is good, what is right. It challenges the beliefs and empathy of the reader forcing them to accept the reality that everyone has both good and bad within them. Nothing is inherently evil.
It faces reality head on, leaving very little of our desperate world untouched. When I started reading it my first impression was that this was what a television soap would look like in book form. And in a way it is, dealing issues such as death, drugs, unloyalty, suicide and dead-end relationships, to name a few.

It's such a dense novel containing so many different stories, One would expect with so many lives compressed into a short space that they would be hurried and lose the effect they might have had, had they been in a novel of their own. But I didn't feel like this happened. Rowling has created what should be a timeless novel which is relevant to every age group from teenagers to a hundred-and-something year olds. It is clearly aimed at the older group but I, as a sixteen year old girl, can still relate to several of the characters.

There is no doubt about it that it's a dark novel and so far from HP that at times it's hard to believe the same woman wrote both. Rowling's writing still retains the familiar charm, however, that I've grown to love. Her style is such a simple, pleasurable read and I found myself staying up late almost every night transfixed by her writing skill. She took a straightforward story in a small village and turned it into a riveting tale of pain and injustice fired by a silent raging war, which all began after the death of one simple man.

Book Tag

My friend, Danielle, made a book tag so that's what I'm doing today.

1. Which book universe would you most like to live in?

There's always a part of me that desperately wants to go to Middle Earth and live my life in the picturesque Shire in a little cosy hobbit hole and never have to worry about a single problem. Just eat good food, drink good drink and smoke a pipe all day long. But unless I had Gandalf turning up on my doorstep to go on adventures every now and again I think I'd grow restless in that quiet place too quickly.
I'd think I'd most like to live on the island kingdom of Lienid from the Graceling universe because the King and Queen are so kind there and everyone appears at peace with each other. It seems like the most idyllic society and even those with Graces are treated with such respect despite being feared and enslaved in every other part of the world.

2. If you could be any character in any book, who would you be?

I'd like to be Sherlock Holmes for a while just to see the world through his eyes. I think it would be amazingly interesting but I wouldn't choose to be him forever. He may have incredible talents but he does not have an enviable lifestyle, with his drug abuse and his near delirious reactions when not occupied with a case.
I'd love to be Albus Dumbledore, if I'm honest. I know he has had a terrible past and a really difficult life but he still manages to enjoy what he has. They may think he's batty but he cares about his students and teachers and everything he does is in their best interest. He still fights evil where a lesser person would have given up and gone into retirement. He knows his duty as a headmaster and an idol to many witches and wizards. So yeah, I'd really like to be Dumbledore.
Or alternatively Luna Lovegood. She's so unconcerned with other peoples opinions of her and I really admire that.

3. Which fictional family from any book would you join?

My first instinct is to say the Weasley family because of how lovable and close they all are. Their house and their car and everything about them, to me is exactly how a family should be.
But I also really like the family in The Mysterious Benedict Society, because they aren't related by blood but they've bonded so profoundly and they might just love each other more than any other family. They are at least more aware of their love.

4. If you could have any character in any book as a best friend, who would it be?

Ron Weasley. I love his sense of humour and his sudden outburst. I just think he's a really cool character. Also Margo Roth Spiegelman. I realise she prefers to do all her adventures on her own but together we would come up with even crazier plans and break rule you didn't even know existed.

5. Which character from any book would be your nemesis?

Quite possibly Stuart 'Fats' Wall from The Casual Vacancy. He describes so much that I dislike in a person. His habit of making a distasteful comment on every fault and failure that anyone has ever had, his belief that he is somehow better than everyone else because he seeks an 'authentic' life, his hypocritical attitude, his targeting of the weak, how he uses people for his own pleasure and gives them nothing back, I could go on. He would be my nemesis.

6. Which character from any book would you want to be your mentor?

Tori, the tattoo artist in Divergent. She's really knowledgeable and reassuring. And a super cool person

7. If you could have any occupation from any fictional book, what would you be?

Consulting Detective. Hands-down that's my dream job. Whatever world I'm in.

8. You have a clique. You can choose any character from any book to be in on your clique. Who would you choose?

This is my gang: Sherlock Holmes, Ron Weasley, Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. And perhaps Bellatrix Lestrange, just for a bit of diversity.

9. You can ask any character from any book one question. What would it be?

Lemony Snicket: WHAT THE FUCK WAS IN THE SUGAR BOWL AND WHERE IS IT NOW?

10. Who do you tag?

You! If you're reading this you're obliged to do this tag. Then comment below telling what your blog is so I can read it. So I'll be expecting the same amount of comments and responses as views. Ha you didn't know what you were signing up for when you read this post! 

Snow Riding-Hood and Gandalf

I left it really late to write this and I’m not in the mood for anything difficult so I’m just going to practice some creative writing as I haven’t done anything of that sort in a while.

She sprinted through the dense green trees overgrown with thistles and thorns. Her crimson satin dress draped below her knees and the lace trimming caught and tore leaving a tell-tale thread on a low branch. On she ran obliviously, her mind not on her inevitable pursuers, she had time only for the destination. Branches cracked and split under the heavy trekking boots she had needed to beg to have purchased for her. She fleetingly recalled the pestering and pleading she had repeatedly bombarded her mother with, her claims that she had weak feet and needed stronger soles than the dainty, pointed-toe heels offered and that surely her physical well being was more important than how aesthetically pleasing her feet would appear to the palace staff who were the singular beings ever permitted to appear in her presence. Aside from at the annual palace ball of course, she recollected with a shudder.

Slowly the trees began to thin out and she suddenly broke out into the empty clearing. He wasn’t here yet. He should have been here by now. She stopped, sucking deep shallow breaths, her chest heaving. She thought she would collapse from exhaustion. In the palace she was not encouraged to exercise her muscles. That sort of exertion was expected of the men of course but was not considered lady-like. She was more than an hour late when she left the palace and had half killed herself to cover the two and half miles as quickly as possible. But he wasn’t here. She didn’t even consider the fact that he had left without her. If anything he had told her was true then he would have waited all night for her if necessary. Now and not for the first time though, she wondered had it all been lies to convince her to leave the palace alone after dark. But she had to come. How could she live with herself if she didn’t find out the truth?

She felt a cold chill creep up the back of her neck. Slowly she turned in a circle, scrutinizing her surroundings. She had never been outside this late before and she only had her thin ball gown with its sheer, lace sleeves ending at her wrists. Her dark hair had fallen out of its pile and hung in loose, thick waves over her shoulders. How long could she wait here for him? When would they realize she was no longer anywhere in the vicinity?

The full moon shone through the treetops. They had chosen this night specifically because of the natural light that that would light their way and also because the ball would continue on until early morning at which point everyone including most of the staff would fall into a deep, intoxicated sleep. If she was lucky they would be so preoccupied not to notice her absence until the next morning. One could only hope, she thought.

“Pleased to see you could make it, Adrienne,” a soft voice spoke from behind her. Jumping slightly she spun around. How had he crept up on her so silently?

“I suppose you expect me to say the same for you, turning up two hours after we had arranged?” she replied more rudely than she had intended. Her heart was still beating too fast and her nerves were on edge. Now that she had gotten here she didn’t know what to do. Staring at his glittering blue eyes she could tell he was laughing at her agitation. His sallow, wrinkled skin contrasted so with her own soft, white visage. As always her skittish feelings faded away almost immediately when in his presence.

“So Adrienne, are you ready to find an adventure?” his eyes twinkled again and a smile flickered for a moment across his lips. She felt her own mouth slide into a smile and then she was standing in the moon-lit glade beaming at the old man.

“I’m ready Grandfather,” she replied, taking a step towards him. He smiled gently back at her, turning and Adrienne walked with him into the trees.

Stories from the Streets

I've been working with the Kilkenny Arts Festival all week, as I was last year. I wrote two blog posts last year on my exhausting experience which you can see here and here. This year won't be nearly as interesting because I'm not working at any of the events themselves but hopefully I can bring you a few juicy tales.

 A couple of days ago I was working in the box office when a middle-aged man wearing sunglasses and a dirty looking cap shuffled in and asked us to call a taxi. He swaggered up to my colleague's desk and began to complain that he had been waiting an hour for a taxi and he had no phone. When he was politely told that we aren't permitted to make phone calls for members of the public and should try Langton's restaurant just up the road, he started swearing loudly in frustration. He said Langton's refused to call him a taxi and repeated that he'd been waiting an hour and needed a taxi. After, it seemed, he had determined that he would not get a taxi called for him here he swayed out of the building muttering obscenities under his breath.

Not long after this he returned and my colleague who had spoken to him before was now on the phone with a customer. He hovered in the entrance for a couple of moments before moving towards my desk where I followed general customer procedure, smiling and asking how I could help. He claimed he had been in the sun all day and was fatigued and needed a taxi. I told him as politely as I could that we couldn't call him a taxi here and there was nothing I could do to help him. I again suggested that he ask Langton's, who will normally order anyone a taxi who needs it. He claimed he had tried Langton's earlier that week and they had threatened to call the police if he didn't leave. I'm not going to lie, he seemed like he had been drinking and he looked - I don't mean to be prejudiced - but like a drug dealer. So it didn't surprise me that Langton's had told him they'd call the police, doubtlessly for unruly behaviour.
This second time in the box office, when I spoke to him, he was discouraged more easily and left pretty quickly still muttering and telling anyone who would listen that it was "fucking ridiculous". Don't ask me what.

So fast forward to today. I was sent on an errand because the office was very quiet and everyone knows that office workers can't live without their coffee. I was walking up Kieran's street (which is well known in Kilkenny for its delinquent teenagers and its druggies) when I saw the same man again. He appeared to be even more intoxicated this time and was yelling at tourists and passers-by. I've never seen people group together in public so suddenly the way I saw them today. Exactly like in a film where someone is making a scene and strangers gather around to watch the drama unfold. It felt so surreal to see it happen right in front of my eyes.
An Asian family with two young children were subjected to his pointless, angry rant but they wisely ignored him completely and quickly walked away. Losing his prey he turned on two unsuspecting women almost shouting "What are you looking at?! I saw how you looked at me! Don't you look at me like that!!"
The women were clearly quiet frightened and though I didn't have a perfect view because the woman's back was to me, the man either hit one of them or tried to pull her scarf from her. But he definitely touched her shoulder/arm area. By now there was quiet a crowd watching from a distance but no one was doing anything to help the women. I was closer to the scene than most of the viewers and I was ready to step in and tell him to back off if he did anything else. I had to hold myself back from intervening. I hated so much to see two women standing helpless to this man while everyone around watched, but I was painfully aware that I was just one small girl and for my own personal safety I forced myself not to approach the scene unless he made a second approach at the women. I guess in this circumstance my Slytherin won through my Gryffindor.

In retrospect I think it would have been safe to interfere because the truth is people are afraid of getting involved with situations that don't concern them. They wait for someone else to act first but then people usually follow suit quickly. I think had I stepped up first to try even the most feeble of attempts to stop this drunken man other onlookers would have help me out. Maybe my opinion of humans is overly positive but I sort of wish now that I had tried to help.

The man got bored after that though and walked off still angrily swearing into the wind. Both women were considerably shaken as they moved down the street in the opposite direction. It makes me sad that there are people who just seem angry at the whole world and can't or won't contain it. It doesn't seem fair that the rest of the world should be inflicted with their built up anger. And also sad that no-one tried to help these poor women who were the victims of his inebriated outburst.