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.