Wednesday, 23 September 2015

A Poem | In the Wake of a Day Lived

"God bless you, darlin'," croaks through empty space
From Digges Lane as I 
Carry on with the routine;
A pilgrimage of some description.
Flinching as revolving doors threaten
to howl at my arrival
"Bionic Woman" has lost its touch,
It seems.
The lotto is unjustifiable this week,
to pay extra for two 
measly numbers.

Instead, I opt for the staples,
Avoid the ingredients that filled 
My cupboards of a time when
Heating an extra plate
Wasn't questioned.
A packet of Bisto kindly reached
By the same face, different name tag,
Sparks a discussion of 
Tonight's fine dining.

Feeling brave, the self check-out
Seems appealing now,
As I lift the groceries from the counter -
The weight of which
More tolerable
Than Before,
I decide to leave my change of
Three-twenty for some
Ordinary Joe Soap
To prize their stars on.

I mull around Stephen's Green,
Bags in hands, feet on pebbles,
Waiting on a name to find me through
Vodafone's dodgy connection.
In the absence of a
Word received,
Signals a taxi to consume
More of my coppers.

Without the scare mongering
of Home, I flick the immersion
To life;
Where I plan to let parts 
of today and
Pieces of me
Fly down the plughole

Waiting, always waiting,
The kettles boils,
One cup. One Sugar. Fortified milk.
My phone vibrates, and answer
To find a voice residing down
the country, but it wires to a 
Similar frequency of my own.

And I forget of where
I am, of today, and all
That I'm not.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Update | Battle of the Busy

I am sure, that it is no secret at this stage across my social media, that I have entered into my final year of secondary school, i.e., Leaving Cert, i.e. stressed-to-the-nines. Unfortunately, my senior year is not depicted like your average romantic Gossip Girl/PLL saga. It requires a lot of hard work, energy (that is not plentiful) the right mind-set, and plenty caffeine. 

I’m dedicated to my work, which is one of my biggest strengths, and indeed, one of my downfalls. From time to time, I tend to lose sight of looking after what should be on the top of the list; myself, and not Club Accounts from White Heads Golf Club, year ending 2005.

I want to do well, of course I do, but I don’t want to get swarmed up for a year and forget to be who I am. Writing is a big part of me, there is not one without the other. Rewind two weeks ago, I would have said all that would be put on the back-burner, but I was reminded that at the end of the day, I can’t neglect what makes me happy. I have a hard time taking leaves from my own books.

“Work, life, balance” is a sentiment that is preached in society, and while right now I can’t fully recognise it, I hope I will soon. There is a lot going for this space at the moment and I can’t let it go by the weigh-side. Believe me; I would much prefer to write album reviews, short stories and other things you would find here, rather than Comparative Essays and Balance Sheets.

So what’s been happing, you might ask. I was recently shortlisted for the Best Youth Blog as part of the Irish Blog Awards. There is a public vote until 21st September. Being shortlisted, as I’ve said across Facebook, is a major achievement in itself – but to be able to go the extra mile would be fantastic. If you would like to help your gal out, you can click here – I will let you know how I get on!

There are a couple of other things that may possibly be happening in the background in the near future, so I won’t be fading away from here. My plan is to write up a couple of blogposts at weekends, and getting up earlier in the morning to do so. My workload aside from blogging is quite vast – and there is a lot for me to get through, but I’ll try to make it work. Meeting people out and about, even in school, who say to me they read my blog and ask when will I write again, is one of the main reasons why I keep coming back here. For so long, I felt I was writing to an empty matter of wires and connections, but I’m learning that that isn’t the case, and I have you to thank for that.

All I can do is take a deep breath, take a minute to look from my desk and hope that the turf gets brought home before September is out.

Let me know how you balance your "Battle of the Busy" in the comments below.

Friday, 4 September 2015

Weird Dreams Anonymous | #IRISHBLOGCOLLAB

Following fierce intense discussions with Maeve from Thrift O'Clock through Snapchat over the last few weeks, this was an inevitable post to be written up. I am by no means responsible for the happenings of my brain in the little hours. And unfortunately, I cannot muster up any explanation as to why my dreams revolve around an intoxicating amount of weirdness. Having said all that, as I say, it's a bit of craic and you might get a laugh or two!

I might as well start off with the one that raised the eyebrows across my social media - because it was as bizarre as the Leaving Cert curriculum (yes, honey, I went there). Unfortunately, I was caught up in a rather, ahem, compromising scenario.

Let's set the scene, I'm in a room, littered with beds, Norris, Emily and other various members of the Coronation Street are around the place. All bunker style, nothing too shady? Right next to me, is no one other than Ronan Keaton, formerly known as the errss and the arrrrs and the urrrs from Boyzone fadó fadó. I wish to outline, I am not, never have been, a fangirl of either Keaton or Boyzone. I never listened to them when I was younger, and I am still a good person.

Absolutely nothing shady or dodgy was going on. Truth be told, he was telling me all about his kids.

We subsequently, after all having dinner, headed out to Today FM's offices in Dublin - for what? Who knows. (I did work experience there earlier on in the year!) Instead of being greeted with the regular routine of getting in and sorted, the whole place was Easter themed. 

In the middle of summer.

Next thing I know, we are all wearing bunny costumes, hopping around the place.

I can't explain this any further, I know, I want answers too.

One minute, I find myself mulling around Dundrum shopping centre with my neighbour. Next thing, I'm the passenger of a coach driven by Carson from Downton Abbey on the way to Achill, with no headlights on.

Fearing for not alone my safety, but my entire life, I didn't think it was unreasonable to ask what he was playing at. I wasn't met with any favourable answer, and I can only say that I am glad I woke up shortly after!

Have you ever made food for your boss? Or been asked to produce a piece of artwork in an office-based setting? One such night, I was a PA for a radio presenter, the name of which I've sadly forgotten. My classmate was working in the desk across from me and he was summonsed to an office. Once arriving, he was asked to make pancakes for our boss. Shortly later, I was asked to come in and do the same.

I allegedly burst into a tsunami of tears after trying to explain that I can't draw a line to save my life when asked to turn into Picasso on the spot. 

When I woke up shortly after this, I woke up actually crying before I told myself to cop on!

I'll leave it there for today, be sure to read Maeve's post for all bundles of randomness. Please let me know what weird dreams you've been having for a chance to be a part of the exclusive #WeirdDreamsAnonymous - two members, and counting.