Tag Archives: life

Since we last spoke..

I’m not going to apologise for talking about my life. It’s all I actually want to write about right now, and you’re here of your own free will so I’m allowed incessantly babble on about myself.

In my last post I think I talked about me feeling rather poorly and how I hoped to make it to The National in Dublin last Friday evening? Yeah well that didn’t happen. And to put it bluntly, it really, really sucks. Bigstyle. There’s not much I can do about it, I know, but it’s realising how close I actually came to seeing them live is what hurts so much.

I’m probably over-reacting. It’s just music, right? Not really though. To most people, Boxer is a couple of good songs by some indie band from Brooklyn. To me though, The National mean a hell of a lot more. Maybe one day I’ll go into it, but not now.

I remember first hearing the rumours that they were coming to Dublin. I was fucking ecstatic. Delirious. It was unbelievable. I was dancing around the house like a headless chicken while my parents looked on in amusement. They understood though. Highs followed lows as the shows sold out, as I managed to get tickets from a friend, as plans got messed up, as plans sorted themselves out, and then the final devastating low last Friday morning when I couldn’t get out of bed.

It didn’t really hit me then. At the time I just felt so shit the last thing I wanted to do was get on a bloody train and traipse around Dublin in the snow. I couldn’t have done it and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it one bit. Today though, on the way home, Bloodbuzz Ohio was mentioned on the radio and immediately I changed channel. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t listen to The National. I couldn’t sit there and let that recording play knowing that I so very nearly heard it live. That moment killed me.

Then I was decorating the Christmas tree earlier and I couldn’t even consider playing Alligator. It sat there in the pile of CDs, but I just couldn’t put it on. No Age, Holy Fuck and Abe Vigoda made up my decorating soundtrack. Not bad, but The National just shoulda been there..

I’ll see them some day, and I know it’ll be worth the wait.

In other news:

  • I had my Irish oral today. Got an A1 (fuckyeah)!
  • Two weeks yesterday ’til my birthday which is exciting!
  • Christmas exams start Thursday which is not exciting.
  • I have a dental appointment on Monday, which may sound like a mundane fact but it is actually a huge event in the life of a dentophobia sufferer.
  • I put up the Christmas tree this evening but plenty of decorating remains to be done.
  • I am going to go to the library tomorrow with Caroline to study for the day. It has been two weeks since I’ve opened a book at home due to my being sick. (Refer to point about Christmas exams)
  • I also hope to get a pair of shoes tomorrow. Grey or black pumps, but a decent pair.
  • I got a lovely, warm, black parka the other day.
  • I currently have a €50 note stuck inside one of my Uggs. I must purchase a harness for the dog tomorrow and I get to keep the change. The harness costs a tenner.
  • I’m tired and I should go to bed (wearing my new pyjama pants!) Good night.

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What’s this?!

At this moment in time you may be thinking that your eyes are deceiving you. This couldn’t possibly be a new blog post from Niamh, could it? No, not really. It’s just going to say the same stuff that all the others say, but technically it could be considered new content. There’s something for you too all debate amongst yourselves.

I don’t really have the time to write here anymore, so you might find yourself wondering (or at least I find myself wondering if you’re wondering) why I’ve suddenly popped up here with a few words of my infamous (not) wisdom. Well, I’m sick. Sort of. I think. Hopefully not. Anymore.

On Thursday night there I started on the ol’ Biology papers, beginning the long trek through the light and dark phases of photosynthesis. Paul McLoone had this competition on his show where you could win two tickets to The National at Other Voices in Dingle. I got nervous and excited at the same time and hijacked all the mobile phones in the house to enter said competition. Around the same time I began to feel a bit crappy. McLoone announced the winner, and it wasn’t me. Or any of my family members who wouldn’t know a National song if it jumped up and hit them.

I abandoned the charming Biology papers and installed myself in front of Ros na Rún, bowl of Cheerios in hand. I think I’ve watched about three and a half episodes of Ros na Rún, but sometimes you get an idea into your head. Anyway, I thought I was developing ‘sensitivity’: a unique, hard-to-describe affliction that I sometimes develop for a day or two. I guess it’s like the flu, but then again, I’ve never had the flu, so I don’t really know for sure. It only lasts a day or two though, usually cured by two paracetamol and a night’s sleep.

But, on this particular occasion, WE HAD NO PARACETAMOL IN THE HOUSE. I’d like to pause here for a second and say the following: WHAT. THE. FUCK. What kind of house doesn’t have paracetamol? There was a few drops of Paralink in a bottle, so I downed that. It really didn’t taste like the claimed ‘strawberry’ flavour but I didn’t care. Ros na Rún was getting interesting.

I went to bed early and took up where I’d left of with The Secret Life of Bees, that ol’ Leaving Cert novel that I should have read over the summer but didn’t. Next morning I woke up none the better and stayed in bed for the day, awaiting a delivery of Panadol and Lucozade, which seemed to help things alright it has to be said. Within an hour of the sweet, sweet Panadol dropping into my stomach all seemed well again. I ate a bit f pasta, took a shower and went to a friend’s house to eat pizza and caramel slices while watching Tubs on the Toy Show.

Getting out of bed on Saturday morning was a bit of a trek, but I managed it, and off to town I went in my ridiculously stupid outfit of a little vintage cropped blazer, bandage skirt and pumps. It was bloody freezing. Did coffee, went home, went to bed. Felt mank, slept, listened to the radio, worried about my health, etc.

Sunday passed in much the same fashion, just involving Sunday papers and plenty of The Panel on RTE Player. Single Handed and a cup of tea perked me up a bit though. There’s just something about that Garda uniform..

Now it’s Monday, and I’m at home. The snow is melting and it’s all disgusting so I don’t want to go out and take photos because it’s frankly quite depressing. I’ve also given up thinking about all the study and homework time I lost over the past four days, and have instead turned my attention towards making it to Dublin on Friday for The National. Which I will. Fuck the Leaving Cert, fuck school, just once I get to listen to that beautiful music LIVE. Excitement is building. And I’d also love if Dublin was all snowy, but I hate slush, okay?

So off you go to cross your fingers, look for 11:11 on the clock, throw copper coins over your shoulder, pray, meditate, whatever you’re into, so that I can make it there.

I’ll bring you back a National badge, like. Now there’s an offer you can’t refuse..

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Stupid thoughts..

I got the urge to do a blog post there so I said I may as well take the opportunity to write a few lines. Having said that, be warned that it’s not going to be a literary masterpiece because all I want to do is ramble on about my bloody thoughts. So boring I know. One of these days I’ll start writing about proper, relevant things that people actually want to read, but until then click here to be brought to my so-called ‘portfolio’ where you can read some semi-proper stuff I wrote. Not like this rambly shite.

I went out last night. ‘Twas a friend’s eighteenth. I love house parties. And it was good craic, because I didn’t know a whole load of people there, which is sometimes better, because it’s like an escape from the usual stuff. It was sorta fancy dress, but I didn’t make much of an effort. I wore a top with a skull on it. I was a skeleton. But to be fair, the majority hadn’t made much effort. I love and loathe fancy dress parties. I hate finding a costume and deciding what to go as, but if you do manage an alright outfit, it’s good for striking up conversations.

Alcohol’s good for that too though. Lose your inhibitions and all that. Box of 24 Miller in Dunnes for eighteen bucks. Recession-busting partying right there. That works out at 75c a bottle! It’s like €4 for one bottle in Centra, which is fucking crazy when you think about it. Bought a lime too. 37c like. Grand.

Came home last night a bit drunk. Fairly drunk. It’s all relative. And because I think I have an internet addiction I ended up on the mighty Facebook around 2am and we all know that’s a bad idea. Nah, I like drunken FB conversations. It’s like the one time that you feel you can talk to anyone and everyone on the bloody thing. Facebook rant coming soon I would think. Anyway, someone was good enough to put up with me and my drunken emotional rambling. One of these days, I’ll have an epiphany during one of those chats. Maybe I have already.

Maybe what I’m gonna say now is all ridiculously obvious, but I’ll say it anyway. I don’t think it’s worth writing about, but I’ve fuck all else to say so this is just going to have to do.

Sometimes you can get sick of those around you. You begin taking people for granted purely because you’ve never had to live without them. Now and then, you might even think that you’d be better off if you just left the past behind and moved forward to a completely new life. But I think I realise that’s wrong, and it’s a pretty idealistic view of life and relationships. It’s not like you can just ‘be’ friends with someone. That’s not friendship. You have to work at it, and get through the good times and the bad. Everyone gets bored, people change, but you just have to learn to accept that and adapt.

I can be a bitch. Wait, I am a bitch. Now and again, I think I’m more important than anyone else. But I don’t mean it. I just appear to think that’s the case, but really, that’s not how I feel at all. Maybe it’s a defence mechanism when I’m not feeling as great and as happy about life as I usually am. Do I try to make myself feel better by distancing myself from those closest to me? That’s not a good plan of action, but I still do it because I want to.

So having established that I need to keep my friends closer than I’m currently doing, I’m also going to say that you need variety. It’s the spice of life, right? I really enjoy nights out with people other than my closest circle of friends, and I think I’m really lucky to have that. Teenagers are so bloody clique-y that they rarely go out to a pub or a club or to a party without at least a few people from their own group. Maybe family’s supposed to provide the other outlet, but I don’t think family compares to friends. They’re just too different.

I actually haven’t a clue where I’m going with this, but I guess that’s what constitutes rambling. God forbid I should ever be coherent.

I give up here. I got a few lines typed and that’s all I wanted to do so I’m happy.

If you got this far, congratulations. You deserve a medal. Or a bun.

Maybe both..


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“What happens in houses behind closed doors…”

– Miss Maudie, To Kill A Mockingbird

What do you ever really know about a person? Seriously, when you think about it. You think you know everything about your best friend, but surely that’s a naive thought. Everyone has secrets, some bigger than others. There’s stuff you’ll never tell your friends, unintentionally perhaps, but there’s always a reason.

Then there’s the things you don’t tell family members, that only your friends know. I guess all this leads to the question, are you the only person who truly knows yourself? Even at that, you need to ask yourself alot of questions and do some searching before you’ll ever begin to know yourself.

The other day someone made a comment about a family member of mine, which may have been a little accurate on the surface, but it made me laugh. It made me laugh at the person’s naivety for making a judgement about a person they didn’t know at all. It was also quite a hypocritical comment, but that’s for another day. I know we’re all prejudiced and judgmental, but I realised how you can never think you know someone. How do you know that someone’s private life isn’t completely different to the facade they put on for the world? Not necessarily a bad thing. Some secrets have to stay secret, and an outer veneer is often the only way to protect that information from the world.

You look at a person; you think you know them, and to a large extent, you do. What’s more interesting though, is what you don’t. What exactly is that person hiding? That friend who seems so strong, is there a reason they seem so knowledgeable about life? That relation who snaps at everything, everyone; what’s up there?

I think we need to be a bit more tolerant of people. To be honest, if I ever write that post on hypocrisy, I have a feeling I might link back to this. I’m not a tolerant person, and yet here I am, asking others to be tolerant. Ironic. How can you blame others though, for just trying to deal with their own lives, their own secrets…

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If Life Were A Film..

As well as all the lovely things that I’d have in life, like being ridiculously good looking and every day being abnormally eventful, I’d be falling in and out of love on a regular basis with fellow beautiful people.

A friend gave me the Gossip Girl box set, and despite it being a box set I had judged from the cover, I kinda fell in love with it. Yesterday, from about 2 o’clock until 11, only pausing briefly for dinner, I watched season one straight through. And it’s quite simply amazing. Watch it. I mean it.

It’s weird how addictive these things are. You are quite literally sucked into this world and it’s all you care about for a while. I am aware this is very, very bad, but who can blame me for wanting to escape for a little while? And if I can escape to Manhattan’s Upper East Side with the oh so beautiful Nate Archibald, then I think I’ll take the opportunity.

It’s weird how TV shows and films can make you feel. It can sort of turn you into a different person, with different hopes and dreams, but it can make you realise things about yourself too. I think what affects me most is any theme of love. I can’t help it. Every couple, every love story, it just captures my mind and I want the couple to stay together so much, or want them to break up and go back to their ‘rightful’ partners.

And then I want it for myself. I want to feel that love that’s portrayed so vividly. But you have to ask yourself is this real? How do I know if I’ve experienced true love or not? Sometimes I genuinely think I do, but it’s hard to distinguish between friendship, lust and love when all three are in there somewhere. Surely you should be sure if you’ve been in love. And yeah, perhaps I have, but that’s not my point. When do you know he’s the one? And what does ‘the one’ even mean? It’s supposed to be that person who makes you feel like no other. But does marriage not get monotonous? I know it’s hard, but surely ‘the one’ should always make you feel like you did the first time you realised they were your other half..

I can see I’ve gone off on a tangent here. I know what I wanted to write about, but I can’t remember how I was going to link it to the title, but I guess I’ve raised some issues anyway.

If life were a film I could go up to that guy I don’t know and ask him out and he wouldn’t think I’m crazy and he’d be single. If life were a film I’d either be going out with that person, or else the best of friends. If life were a film that other person wouldn’t care. If life were a film alot of things would be different.

But we live in the real world. It’s not Wisteria Lane; it’s not Upper East Side; it’s not a remote desert island.

Everything that happens in completely and utterly real. Even if it’s false, it’s still real. There’s no script writer deciding your fate. It’s just you, other people, and the world.

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The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

On the off-chance you’ve never heard that before, it’s by Robert Frost, not me, but I appreciate the sentiment.

I know I probably seem a bit obsessed with decisions, but I have big plans, and making decisions scares me. No matter what I ever choose to go with, I will always wonder what it would have been like had I picked the other option.

Regret is the worst feeling in the world. I know it’s easy to say in hindsight, but it’s awful if you’ve been that close, and willingly picked a different path.

I’m being very vague and wishy-washy here, but I did make a decision, but I’ll never ever know whether or not it was the right one. One’s memory is never perfectly accurate; you leave out the bad bits and remember the good bits. SO what if, when the time comes round for what I chose, it’s not as good as I remember? What if it hits me that I was ridiculously stupid and should have grabbed the opportunity as hard as I could?

I read this thing before, in the back of an old chemistry book. It was a story about a guy who went to a palace. The prince of the palace gave the guy a spoonful of oil, and told him to go around and admire the wonders of the palace, without spilling the oil. The guy came back, unsatisfied, as he had the oil, but had been unable to admire the treasures. Again the prince sent him off, this time telling him to just admire the surroundings. He returned, but with no oil.

The prince told him that in order to be happy he had to enjoy the wonders and treasures of the palace, but to never forget about the spoonful of oil. A bit like Frost’s poem, it’s just one big metaphor. The palace represents what you want in life, and the oil represents your responsibilities. The true secret to happiness is to go through life enjoying what you want, but always remembering your responsibilities.

It’s true I think. At first I was like, ah feck the responsibilities, but when I thought about it, I realised you can’t do that. If tomorrow I decided I was going to drop out of school, leave my family and friends, and just get away and do what I want, I’d never be happy. Aside from any financial problems I may encounter, I would forever have this niggling feeling that I should be getting an education and living with family and friends.

Coming back to my decision, I try to relate it to this. As much as I try though, I really can’t see how I would have been ignoring my responsibilities by seizing the day and taking that opportunity. That particular palace wouldn’t have made me spill the oil.

I’m making such a big deal out of it all, and I analyse my decision every single day. Chances are I’m remembering the palace as being alot more amazing than it ever was. After experiencing part of both options, I made a decision. That decision was influenced by others, I know that, but I still contributed hugely to it, so surely it’s what was right to do?

I hate not knowing. Sometimes I wish I could gaze into a crystal ball and see what the correct decision was. But life doesn’t work that way.

You can only learn from the past, and mistakes are the greatest teacher of all. It’s true, even if it completely and utterly sucks.

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Sometimes people just annoy you

I’m not just being mean. I’m not having a bad day. I’m not trying to find something to rant about. I’m not holding any grudges. There are just some people who I find it hard to like.

The worst thing is that don’t even know why. For some reason, I just don’t like them. Plain and simple. Which is absolutely fine if you see them once a year. That sounds suspiciously like I’m referring to family, but I’m not. I mean, if you can avoid the person, then it hardly matters if you find them grossly irritating. It’s when the person is someone you see regularly, someone who others like, someone who you have to live with, someone who may even be a friend. (If anyone reading this knows me, I am not referring to a particular person there, but just various general situations.)

It’s awful, really awful, if someone annoying comes along and ruins your day. You may not be able to complain to others, and there may not be any specific reason, and that’s the worst about it. If it’s someone who is blatantly annoying or even abusive, then it’s fine, because you have a reason. But if it’s just some person who grates on your nerves for absolutely no reason. It’s like nature just meant it to be. It’s as though you’re both the same end of a magnet, repelling each other.

I don’t know how else to put it. Is it just me being irritable? Maybe, when I think about it, there are reasons why certain people annoy me. No-one annoys me for absolutely no reason. But the aspects of a person’s personality that annoy me don’t annoy others. Is it because, as people, we like and dislike different things? Or is it because some people are far more tolerant than others?

Some situations tend to increase tensions, especially Christmas with family. There’s always some stress surrounding the whole dinner and celebrations and whatnot. And if you’re stuck with relatives for days on end, any one of them who annoys you is going to annoy you even more, for the simple reason that you just can’t escape.

It can also happen within a group of friends, where two friends don’t get along for no apparent reason. It might be quite obvious, or perhaps not noticed at all, even by the person who is the ‘irritant’ so to speak. Just the ‘victim’, the person who is annoyed beyond belief, but who can they go crying to?

That’s just life folks, and you gotta deal with it.


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