I have to stop worrying about how my French oral went... it's driving me insane. What's horribly ironic is that before the oral I was Monsieur Cool, unphased by all manner of complicated questions on social problems and economic crises, and now that's it's over and I can't do anything about it or even find out how I did I'm a nervous, eyebrow-twitching wreck, forever starting at the thought of imagined grammatical blunders and staring regretfully into the distance thinking about all the sexpot phrases I could've thrown in as filler but didn't.
And it's a pretty inconvenient time for all this worrying, as my music practical, which is significantly more important than the oral (50 fucking percent of Leaving to be exact), is tomorrow morning. So I need to relax, and I need to relax NOW. I'm considering having a drink or two before bed, that's how twisted my logic is while I'm in this fretful state.
Que Sera Sera......... Fuck you Leaving Cert, fuck you in your fuck ugly face.
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
everybody hates me
I've noticed something about these blogs: I only ever write them when I have nothing to do, and I spend most of the blog whining in a pathetic way about how crap stuff is or how good stuff is going to be or what I do when I'm at a loose end. I've realised this is because when I'm actually out there ENJOYING life I couldn't care less about blogging. So with that introduction I'm sure you know what's coming...
Noone wants to do anything ever! They're all big losers and I'm not a big loser because I want to do stuff but nobody wants to do stuff but I want to do stuff and when I ask them to do stuff they say no and then I get angry and then theyre losers! I know what you're thinking, gentle reader: 'what a sad-sap... clearly you just have no friends. People are out doing stuff, I can assure you... just not with you'. And to some degree that's probably true. But unfortunately that's no consolation when you're sitting at the computer on a Friday night just having finished your mocks flicking between the 'Balla' and 'Próifíl' pages on your Facebook as Gaeilge and listening to Lady Gaga.
I must have some kind of inability to shake the feeling that I could always be doing something more fun than I'm doing right now. Some day I'll just join some sort of cringy group therapy session and meet other people with the same paranoia and restlessness, and they can be my friends... But you what sitting at home on a Friday night REALLY makes you think about: that the Leaving Cert. sucks, because you never get to see people or go out anywhere (even though you do, loads, but it's never as much of a bender as it might ideally be). It just does you know? I just wish I could skip the next few months and glide into a summer of blissful drunkenness and that be the end of it.
Noone wants to do anything ever! They're all big losers and I'm not a big loser because I want to do stuff but nobody wants to do stuff but I want to do stuff and when I ask them to do stuff they say no and then I get angry and then theyre losers! I know what you're thinking, gentle reader: 'what a sad-sap... clearly you just have no friends. People are out doing stuff, I can assure you... just not with you'. And to some degree that's probably true. But unfortunately that's no consolation when you're sitting at the computer on a Friday night just having finished your mocks flicking between the 'Balla' and 'Próifíl' pages on your Facebook as Gaeilge and listening to Lady Gaga.
I must have some kind of inability to shake the feeling that I could always be doing something more fun than I'm doing right now. Some day I'll just join some sort of cringy group therapy session and meet other people with the same paranoia and restlessness, and they can be my friends... But you what sitting at home on a Friday night REALLY makes you think about: that the Leaving Cert. sucks, because you never get to see people or go out anywhere (even though you do, loads, but it's never as much of a bender as it might ideally be). It just does you know? I just wish I could skip the next few months and glide into a summer of blissful drunkenness and that be the end of it.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Updates
Sorry for the lack of blogs lately. I'm not best pleased with my blog at the moment... Reading over some of my more recent ones (I always seem to be doing that... how desperate am I) I've noticed there to be a distinct lack of continuity to them. I know there's nothing exactly wrong with a lack of continuity; as with everyone, the only constant factor in the events of my life is me being in them. But what bothers me is that I seem to construct settings in my blog whereby follow-ups are promised or would be necessary to complete the 'story' of a particular blog and I never deliver. I suppose its not a big deal because a) nobody reads this and b) if I meticulously followed up every subplot of my life alluded to here for the sake of it, I'd probably be writing because I felt some obligation to do so and not because I had anything interesting to say, and I'd probably lose interest in writing them altogether if I did that. But I still think I should answer a few things, just to finish the stories.
Remember Cian McLoughlin the artist guy? He eventually did turn up at school. He gave a very interesting talk about his work and what gives him inspiration. His commitment to his work astounded me, he said he usually paints 8 hours a day. If anything it put me off a career in art because I don't think I have rigour and the passion necessary to do it well. And the choir thing? I got my CD! I am very pleased with it, the sound is good, but most of all I love just having it, being able to put it in a CD player and think 'I wrote that'. It's pretty cool, but I can't play it too often because it's not good enough to warrant playing over and over without it getting a tad annoying.
Did I even mention Midterm was coming up? That's another thing I seem to leave out of my blog a lot, the lead up to things that seem like they deserve a lead up. Well at this stage it's almost come and gone: we're back to the grind on Monday (mock French oral on Wednesday, fuck ye...). I'll fill you in on what I've been up to. Though that's not very much, as you'll see.
I jetted off to the beautiful city of Rome for five days with my Latin class, a group of people none of whom I have any problem with, which considering how judgmental I am is quite something. That's not 'not very much', I hear you pout, quite jealous that I was in Rome and you were at home wasting your life away in the grey landfill site that is this city. Be patient... the story's not finished yet.
So we arrived in Rome on Monday at about 9am, having got up at a disgusting hour of the morning to catch our typically school tour 'first plane out of the airport' flight. Before our flight had landed I knew I wasn't feeling too hot. Get some panadol, I thought. So I looked for shops in the airport at Rome, asked around everyone. I only got any after we had reached our hotel (3 hours after landing). So I had that. Nothing. Had some more later. Seemed to be getting worse.
By the time we were halfway through our tour of the colosseum I was shivering, feverous, barely able to stand up because my headache was so bad, all my energy was sapped. I was so bad I had to retire to the hotel, curl up in the dark and drink water all day while the others continued with the tour. At night I didn't sleep at all, and I must not have drank enough water through the day because I was having delusions about some sort of cloning factory in the room, the blue light by the door was part of some machine and the pictures on the walls were kind of boxes stationary on a conveyer belt. Sounds lovely and trippy, but really it was horrible, the night seemed endless. By morning I was even worse, and I ended up dragging my sorry ass down to reception after the guys were gone off for the day to ask them to summon a doctor. He came; it turned out I had really bad strepthroat, whatever that is. All I know is it's hell.
I won't bore you with more details. Spent the next 2 days imprisoned in the hotel room, the only notable points of that time being when I kept vommiting up the contents of my stomach - water, and antibiotics - in reaction to my drugs, the battle with the doctor to convince him to prescribe me something else, his extortionate fees, and the hotel maid coming into my room and not realising I was there for a full minute or two, then running off when she realised.
There was a slight consolation on the final day as I was well enough to go outside again, though my symptoms were all still threatening me. Despite them I had a reasonably pleasant day seeing Pompeii (actually very, very impressive). But of course, now that I was starting to get better it was time to go back home, though not before a 12 hour wait in the airport on account of delays. You go Ryanair.
So now I'm back. Upcoming news will include mocks, orals, music practicals, and possibly the end of the world.
Remember Cian McLoughlin the artist guy? He eventually did turn up at school. He gave a very interesting talk about his work and what gives him inspiration. His commitment to his work astounded me, he said he usually paints 8 hours a day. If anything it put me off a career in art because I don't think I have rigour and the passion necessary to do it well. And the choir thing? I got my CD! I am very pleased with it, the sound is good, but most of all I love just having it, being able to put it in a CD player and think 'I wrote that'. It's pretty cool, but I can't play it too often because it's not good enough to warrant playing over and over without it getting a tad annoying.
Did I even mention Midterm was coming up? That's another thing I seem to leave out of my blog a lot, the lead up to things that seem like they deserve a lead up. Well at this stage it's almost come and gone: we're back to the grind on Monday (mock French oral on Wednesday, fuck ye...). I'll fill you in on what I've been up to. Though that's not very much, as you'll see.
I jetted off to the beautiful city of Rome for five days with my Latin class, a group of people none of whom I have any problem with, which considering how judgmental I am is quite something. That's not 'not very much', I hear you pout, quite jealous that I was in Rome and you were at home wasting your life away in the grey landfill site that is this city. Be patient... the story's not finished yet.
So we arrived in Rome on Monday at about 9am, having got up at a disgusting hour of the morning to catch our typically school tour 'first plane out of the airport' flight. Before our flight had landed I knew I wasn't feeling too hot. Get some panadol, I thought. So I looked for shops in the airport at Rome, asked around everyone. I only got any after we had reached our hotel (3 hours after landing). So I had that. Nothing. Had some more later. Seemed to be getting worse.
By the time we were halfway through our tour of the colosseum I was shivering, feverous, barely able to stand up because my headache was so bad, all my energy was sapped. I was so bad I had to retire to the hotel, curl up in the dark and drink water all day while the others continued with the tour. At night I didn't sleep at all, and I must not have drank enough water through the day because I was having delusions about some sort of cloning factory in the room, the blue light by the door was part of some machine and the pictures on the walls were kind of boxes stationary on a conveyer belt. Sounds lovely and trippy, but really it was horrible, the night seemed endless. By morning I was even worse, and I ended up dragging my sorry ass down to reception after the guys were gone off for the day to ask them to summon a doctor. He came; it turned out I had really bad strepthroat, whatever that is. All I know is it's hell.
I won't bore you with more details. Spent the next 2 days imprisoned in the hotel room, the only notable points of that time being when I kept vommiting up the contents of my stomach - water, and antibiotics - in reaction to my drugs, the battle with the doctor to convince him to prescribe me something else, his extortionate fees, and the hotel maid coming into my room and not realising I was there for a full minute or two, then running off when she realised.
There was a slight consolation on the final day as I was well enough to go outside again, though my symptoms were all still threatening me. Despite them I had a reasonably pleasant day seeing Pompeii (actually very, very impressive). But of course, now that I was starting to get better it was time to go back home, though not before a 12 hour wait in the airport on account of delays. You go Ryanair.
So now I'm back. Upcoming news will include mocks, orals, music practicals, and possibly the end of the world.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
A Very Adult Blog
I'm going to take up from where I left off last blog, when I was speculating on when I might be able to get a copy of the recording of my composition with the aforementioned choir. The answer: an indeterminate, possibly interminable amount of time. Yes... The plot thickens...
You see, it turns out that the project which gave us wannabe composers the chance to do this in the first place was (up until the end of last year as far as I can make out) state-funded (that dreaded phrase). As everybody has been reminded again and again for the past forever or so it would seem, the economy is pretty much shit at the moment. And as everybody also knows, we have a government whose first priorities don't even lie in education or a properly organised health care system, let alone anywhere near the arts. So I suppose it should hardly be surprising that the funding for a project such as this was probably the very first thing on the government's list to be removed when they realised they needed to cut loose a few sandbags. Hardly surprising at least to someone who keeps even remotely in the know about current affairs... it certainly caught me a bit by surprise anyway, me in my little 'my daddy's job is secure enough that I don't have to give a toss about anything except where I'm going interrailing next summer' bubble.
Upon further inquiry, I found out that not only has the possibility that the project would be continued in coming years been completely written off, but they've actually turned off the tap on the funding for the current project as well, which is obviously well underway. So everything regarding the recordings, everything, has been thrown up in the air, and no one knows what's happening at all at all.
(At this point I'm going to go very out of character and try to step back and consider the position of someone other than my horribly selfish self in this mess.)
Thinking about it, it's deductable that the choir who were running this programme are no longer being paid for there work regarding it. And, after educating myself on the matter a bit, I've found that they're no longer being funded for ANY of there projects. They were reliant on the state funding which up until so recently they had been receiving. That day at the recording in DCU, they weren't even being paid for. Now, I know it's difficult to put forward a case for their right to funding at a time like this, and it's undeniable that there are much more necessary causes which themselves have been cut; I'm not going to go as far as saying the choir deserve some state support more than, say, a school for the disabled that's had to tell it's students to go find somewhere else to learn as the state in cutting its losses and abandoning you (let's face it, you're not an investment that's going to 'pay off'). But at the same time, the waste of talent that the end of a choir like this, considered by many as the best of its kind in the country, a choir that can lend itself to faciliate and to inspire young people to write their own music, just seems unjustifiable to me. It is a travesty, plain and simple.
I'm a completely self-professed airhead when it comes this whole buisness of the recession, but based on the little I know about the economic climate, job losses and funding cuts, I'm brought to wonder at what is being done to invest in the future, and I don't mean next year or the year after that. My english teacher at school, who we'll call K, is adamant on this subject about the need for investment in young people and in education. You only have to look back through the countries history to see that that is true; the building of primary schools throughout the entire country back in a time where the economic issues weren't looking so hot either was the biggest single investment ever made into the country's education, and the pay-off is plain to see in our highly educated workforce and in the number of international buisnesses who choose to set up their bases here. So why isn't education the buzzword of these recessionary times? Why aren't people saying now's the time to pour investment into schools?
Another thing K likes to say is that when you were born in Hollis Street 18 years ago, you had no greater or lesser potential than a child born on the same day whose parent's were not as financially well off. The difference is, he now has a 50% chance of ending up in jail at some time in his life, while you have a 50% chance of being his barrister. Whatever about those statistics... A more obvious example of the failures that still exist in the education system, there ain't.
If people never in their life receive support or inspiration to achieve what potentially could achieve, what chance are they going to have in these gloomy times to succeed in making a happy life for themselves? The source of this kind of support and inspiration for many comes from the home, though not for all, but it should certainly come from school for everyone. Not even necessarily in the classroom... on the pitch, in an after-school club, in the friends you make there, even in the Young Scientist for god's sake. Or in a music programme which gives you a little bit of focus, a little bit of a nod to say 'you might actually have a few ideas there', a sense that you've made something real, a look through the window into the world of greatest singers you're likely to find.
Oh god, reading over this I cringe at how unbelieveably up myself I am...
But ye, it pretty much comes down to the fact that the government are a shower o' bastards who should know what really matters. Capitalist swine and all that, blahblahblha... But seriously, this blog could have been written by mashing up a tape recording of my english classes from the past two years and a website of the 10 most greatest inspirational speeches of all time. oh dear...
You see, it turns out that the project which gave us wannabe composers the chance to do this in the first place was (up until the end of last year as far as I can make out) state-funded (that dreaded phrase). As everybody has been reminded again and again for the past forever or so it would seem, the economy is pretty much shit at the moment. And as everybody also knows, we have a government whose first priorities don't even lie in education or a properly organised health care system, let alone anywhere near the arts. So I suppose it should hardly be surprising that the funding for a project such as this was probably the very first thing on the government's list to be removed when they realised they needed to cut loose a few sandbags. Hardly surprising at least to someone who keeps even remotely in the know about current affairs... it certainly caught me a bit by surprise anyway, me in my little 'my daddy's job is secure enough that I don't have to give a toss about anything except where I'm going interrailing next summer' bubble.
Upon further inquiry, I found out that not only has the possibility that the project would be continued in coming years been completely written off, but they've actually turned off the tap on the funding for the current project as well, which is obviously well underway. So everything regarding the recordings, everything, has been thrown up in the air, and no one knows what's happening at all at all.
(At this point I'm going to go very out of character and try to step back and consider the position of someone other than my horribly selfish self in this mess.)
Thinking about it, it's deductable that the choir who were running this programme are no longer being paid for there work regarding it. And, after educating myself on the matter a bit, I've found that they're no longer being funded for ANY of there projects. They were reliant on the state funding which up until so recently they had been receiving. That day at the recording in DCU, they weren't even being paid for. Now, I know it's difficult to put forward a case for their right to funding at a time like this, and it's undeniable that there are much more necessary causes which themselves have been cut; I'm not going to go as far as saying the choir deserve some state support more than, say, a school for the disabled that's had to tell it's students to go find somewhere else to learn as the state in cutting its losses and abandoning you (let's face it, you're not an investment that's going to 'pay off'). But at the same time, the waste of talent that the end of a choir like this, considered by many as the best of its kind in the country, a choir that can lend itself to faciliate and to inspire young people to write their own music, just seems unjustifiable to me. It is a travesty, plain and simple.
I'm a completely self-professed airhead when it comes this whole buisness of the recession, but based on the little I know about the economic climate, job losses and funding cuts, I'm brought to wonder at what is being done to invest in the future, and I don't mean next year or the year after that. My english teacher at school, who we'll call K, is adamant on this subject about the need for investment in young people and in education. You only have to look back through the countries history to see that that is true; the building of primary schools throughout the entire country back in a time where the economic issues weren't looking so hot either was the biggest single investment ever made into the country's education, and the pay-off is plain to see in our highly educated workforce and in the number of international buisnesses who choose to set up their bases here. So why isn't education the buzzword of these recessionary times? Why aren't people saying now's the time to pour investment into schools?
Another thing K likes to say is that when you were born in Hollis Street 18 years ago, you had no greater or lesser potential than a child born on the same day whose parent's were not as financially well off. The difference is, he now has a 50% chance of ending up in jail at some time in his life, while you have a 50% chance of being his barrister. Whatever about those statistics... A more obvious example of the failures that still exist in the education system, there ain't.
If people never in their life receive support or inspiration to achieve what potentially could achieve, what chance are they going to have in these gloomy times to succeed in making a happy life for themselves? The source of this kind of support and inspiration for many comes from the home, though not for all, but it should certainly come from school for everyone. Not even necessarily in the classroom... on the pitch, in an after-school club, in the friends you make there, even in the Young Scientist for god's sake. Or in a music programme which gives you a little bit of focus, a little bit of a nod to say 'you might actually have a few ideas there', a sense that you've made something real, a look through the window into the world of greatest singers you're likely to find.
Oh god, reading over this I cringe at how unbelieveably up myself I am...
But ye, it pretty much comes down to the fact that the government are a shower o' bastards who should know what really matters. Capitalist swine and all that, blahblahblha... But seriously, this blog could have been written by mashing up a tape recording of my english classes from the past two years and a website of the 10 most greatest inspirational speeches of all time. oh dear...
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A List of Things I'm Looking Forward To
1. Interrailing - Turns out people do enjoy having fun - we're going BABAY! I have this unignorable feeling that it's going to be absolutely epic on toast. Since we've finally booked our flights the whole thing seems more official, not just one of those up-in-the-air projects where you go 'we so totally have to...' and then never bother to do it. The sense of freedom jetting off to the Continent after all the nastiness of the exams is finished with is going to be mindblowing. To say that I can't wait hardly expresses it.
Also...There's a stack of hash brownies in Amsterdam with my name on it...mmmMMMmmm!...ahem
2. Latin Trip - It's gona be maaaad craic; with Mr. O'Suilleabhain along for the ride how could it be anything else? Don't really know what the weathers going to be like in Rome in February, but I'm firmly optimistic thats it's going to be better than in this shithole.
3. Panto - Sad to say it, but the Christmas season wouldn't have been complete for me without a trip to the Gaiety with the whole Brady Bunch that is our family. I'm told it's Cinderella this year (by 'I'm told' I actually mean 'I researched online to find out, because I'm that pathetic - LOVE ME') which is very fitting, as I used to watch this movie over and over when I was 4, embarrassingly enough. Hopefully matters will be preceded by a delicious (free) meal at somewhere reasonably fancy, and I'll get to buy one of those colourful spinning things they sell for a fortune a pop at these kind's of 'events'...not to be missed
4. Lanza - Oh the potatoes... with a big dirty mountain of green mojo on the side fur dippin'... who wouldn't want to have sex with that? Spending time in Lisa's 'happy place' as she calls it is going to be QUITE SOMETHING. Once I've finished getting Ann/Sue on board with our plans and it's a done deal I can sit back and wait, drooling.
5. KERRY 2K9 - Presuming I pass my driving test, a major trip to the gee, and beyond, is in store. I'm going to make the bold statement of suggesting that this will be the THE minibreak to top in the years to come.
6. Being Able to Drive - After only one lesson so far I'm already kind of hooked on the idea of being properly mobile for the first time.
7. Getting my Music Composition on CD - I'm not going to explain this one here; I'll devote my next blog to it. See how I leave you in suspense to keep you coming back to read my insubstantial whingings?
8. College - A new beginning would be very welcome at the moment. 6th year can't end soon enough.
9. Seeing Crystal Castles live sometime this year - because it IS going to happen.
Planning for the future instead of studying FTW
Also...There's a stack of hash brownies in Amsterdam with my name on it...mmmMMMmmm!...ahem
2. Latin Trip - It's gona be maaaad craic; with Mr. O'Suilleabhain along for the ride how could it be anything else? Don't really know what the weathers going to be like in Rome in February, but I'm firmly optimistic thats it's going to be better than in this shithole.
3. Panto - Sad to say it, but the Christmas season wouldn't have been complete for me without a trip to the Gaiety with the whole Brady Bunch that is our family. I'm told it's Cinderella this year (by 'I'm told' I actually mean 'I researched online to find out, because I'm that pathetic - LOVE ME') which is very fitting, as I used to watch this movie over and over when I was 4, embarrassingly enough. Hopefully matters will be preceded by a delicious (free) meal at somewhere reasonably fancy, and I'll get to buy one of those colourful spinning things they sell for a fortune a pop at these kind's of 'events'...not to be missed
4. Lanza - Oh the potatoes... with a big dirty mountain of green mojo on the side fur dippin'... who wouldn't want to have sex with that? Spending time in Lisa's 'happy place' as she calls it is going to be QUITE SOMETHING. Once I've finished getting Ann/Sue on board with our plans and it's a done deal I can sit back and wait, drooling.
5. KERRY 2K9 - Presuming I pass my driving test, a major trip to the gee, and beyond, is in store. I'm going to make the bold statement of suggesting that this will be the THE minibreak to top in the years to come.
6. Being Able to Drive - After only one lesson so far I'm already kind of hooked on the idea of being properly mobile for the first time.
7. Getting my Music Composition on CD - I'm not going to explain this one here; I'll devote my next blog to it. See how I leave you in suspense to keep you coming back to read my insubstantial whingings?
8. College - A new beginning would be very welcome at the moment. 6th year can't end soon enough.
9. Seeing Crystal Castles live sometime this year - because it IS going to happen.
Planning for the future instead of studying FTW
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
SAD - '2k9, not so fine'
Yes it's that time of year again, the time of dark January mornings and early evenings and going back to school, the warm, fuzzy edges of christmas time having been shaken sharply into focus, and now we can see clearly enough to realise just how fucking bleak the immediate future actually is. The Mocks are coming. Everyone is always in bad humour. Summer is an eternity away. No (reasonably) good weather. No FUN.
I'm pretty convinced I suffer from a condition known as SAD (though I'm equally convinced its not a condition of mind, rather a kind of animal instinct). For those of you not familiar with the term, this doesn't mean that being a pathetic loser has been declared a medical condition. SAD stands for 'Seasonal Affective Disorder', and those who suffer from it are said to react more severely than others to good or bad weather; for example, a really nice sunny day might put a SAD sufferer in high spirits for no other particular reason, making them feel relaxed, healthy, energetic and enthusiastic, while a dreary grey drizzly day could send them plummeting into the depths of depression, unable to sleep, uncertain about the future, and uncharacteristically short-tempered.
Now, I've pretty much trawled the interweb for information about SAD, and I've done all the 'do YOU have SAD?' personality tests you like, and I have come to the conclusion that I am one of the many people who suffer from it, whether or not it is actually an unnatural occurance in a person. Every year, come January, I get the blues in a maaaaaaaajor way man (again I stress my view that it's pretty obvious that everyone gets them too, but that's not going to stop me complaining about it);
I find it difficult to get up in the mornings, I have less desire to engage in conversations with people, I find my friends irritating all the time (but when I'm not with them I mourne whatever fun I might be missing out on), I've little motivation to do anything proactive other than plan to do things in the future, and the simple pleasures like stuffing my face, watching tv, playing the piano, drinking, just don't have their usual ability to raise my spirits.
It just one of those things. I know it'll pass, it always does, but it's easier to say that than to believe it. This time of year is really lonely; everyone's got a heavy workload, and they're tired, and because of that they all piss eachother off. I'd love to meet up with all the people I haven't seen in yonks, but I bet if I did I'd just have nothing interesting to say and everyone would get on my nerves. And I could be wrong about that, but as you may be able to tell I'm pretty pessemistic right now.
And ANOTHER thing! Our 6th holiday, initially planned to be interrailing, is pretty much fallen through, as no-one is 'up for it'. I don't even care if we don't go interrailing, I just want to go somewhere where I can have fun with my friends, I don't give a shite where or for how long or how many people are going, but this trip being a shambles is just another monumentally shite thing about the present.....
ugh i need a break....fucking shitness of January!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And NOBODY had better say anything like 'onwards and upwards' in the coming weeks, or they can just fuck off.
SERIOUSLY
I'm pretty convinced I suffer from a condition known as SAD (though I'm equally convinced its not a condition of mind, rather a kind of animal instinct). For those of you not familiar with the term, this doesn't mean that being a pathetic loser has been declared a medical condition. SAD stands for 'Seasonal Affective Disorder', and those who suffer from it are said to react more severely than others to good or bad weather; for example, a really nice sunny day might put a SAD sufferer in high spirits for no other particular reason, making them feel relaxed, healthy, energetic and enthusiastic, while a dreary grey drizzly day could send them plummeting into the depths of depression, unable to sleep, uncertain about the future, and uncharacteristically short-tempered.
Now, I've pretty much trawled the interweb for information about SAD, and I've done all the 'do YOU have SAD?' personality tests you like, and I have come to the conclusion that I am one of the many people who suffer from it, whether or not it is actually an unnatural occurance in a person. Every year, come January, I get the blues in a maaaaaaaajor way man (again I stress my view that it's pretty obvious that everyone gets them too, but that's not going to stop me complaining about it);
I find it difficult to get up in the mornings, I have less desire to engage in conversations with people, I find my friends irritating all the time (but when I'm not with them I mourne whatever fun I might be missing out on), I've little motivation to do anything proactive other than plan to do things in the future, and the simple pleasures like stuffing my face, watching tv, playing the piano, drinking, just don't have their usual ability to raise my spirits.
It just one of those things. I know it'll pass, it always does, but it's easier to say that than to believe it. This time of year is really lonely; everyone's got a heavy workload, and they're tired, and because of that they all piss eachother off. I'd love to meet up with all the people I haven't seen in yonks, but I bet if I did I'd just have nothing interesting to say and everyone would get on my nerves. And I could be wrong about that, but as you may be able to tell I'm pretty pessemistic right now.
And ANOTHER thing! Our 6th holiday, initially planned to be interrailing, is pretty much fallen through, as no-one is 'up for it'. I don't even care if we don't go interrailing, I just want to go somewhere where I can have fun with my friends, I don't give a shite where or for how long or how many people are going, but this trip being a shambles is just another monumentally shite thing about the present.....
ugh i need a break....fucking shitness of January!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And NOBODY had better say anything like 'onwards and upwards' in the coming weeks, or they can just fuck off.
SERIOUSLY
Monday, December 8, 2008
Something.....
It's been one of those weekends. I've been up and down like a yoyo at Alton Towers. I don't know what to make of my own mood... like right now I'm searching for predebs photos while listening to Faure's Requiem (best Requiem ever by the way), what is wrong with me? I didn't even know whether or not I felt like writing a blog: one minute I'd be all up for it and the next I wouldn't have the energy or interest. Not that I feel I have nothing about which to write, it's just that my mind's all over the place, totally restless. So I'll try my best to keep this moving and coherent and not whiny.
I had decided that this weekend was to be a very 'getting things done' weekend; chemistry notes were to be written up, Christmas presents were to be bought, study for exams was to be at least attempted, and merriment was to be had at the predebs (though not so much that I'd regret it the next morning). Alas, it didn't quite evolve in the way I had hoped it would... all I can really say is that I got good and pissed at the prebs, but considering my capacities that's hardly admirable or surprising.
Like I guess I had a good weekend on paper, but between the periods of fun I was in a state of total gloom... I think sometimes my expectations of people are too high. But then I second guess myself, thinking that maybe I'm just used to going along with what other people want all the time because I don't have the confidence to do my own thing so I don't speak out when people are treating you like a piece of shit. I'm in one of those moods when you're longing for a really nice, relaxed hang-out with friends, but everyone's off doing other things, and whenever you're around anyone anyway they just piss you off, and you them. It's times like these you ask yourself panicked questions like 'Do I have any real friends? Like I know I have friends, but do I really have any of those friends that you can always turn to when time are tough, the ones you see in movies, like who spat on their hands as children and joined them together and promised they'd always be friends etc.' and feel like you're drifting away in this slow inevitable movement from everyone you once felt close to...
OMFG I AM SOOOOOOOOO EMO LOIKE!!!!!!!
It had to be said... But ye, I really should be able to explain myself, to reference whatever events set me off on this self-absorbed rant (or is it a spell of clear thinking? See, I really couldn't tell you. But I'll stop now) however I'm finding this difficult. It's probably just a tumult of lots of things, the time of year, looming exams, everybody feeling stressed out... I've just got this overwhelming feeling of longing for something I can't even identify. I try to fill it with food, with t.v, with conversation, with exercise, with study even, with... other, offbeat things... but it's like the hopes I bring to every task that this will be the one thing that will bring me back to normal make everything futile to begin with.
I want something new, something wild, something fresh, something crazy, something altogether different, something I've never thought of, something I've never experienced, someone who'll really get me, something that'll take my mind off everything, something inspirational, something enriching, something that I'll need, something that'll need me, something that'll make me feel close to something, something that'll make me feel achievement, something that'll demand all of my attention. blaffhjgjjhghjghjgjh!!!!!!!!!
I had decided that this weekend was to be a very 'getting things done' weekend; chemistry notes were to be written up, Christmas presents were to be bought, study for exams was to be at least attempted, and merriment was to be had at the predebs (though not so much that I'd regret it the next morning). Alas, it didn't quite evolve in the way I had hoped it would... all I can really say is that I got good and pissed at the prebs, but considering my capacities that's hardly admirable or surprising.
Like I guess I had a good weekend on paper, but between the periods of fun I was in a state of total gloom... I think sometimes my expectations of people are too high. But then I second guess myself, thinking that maybe I'm just used to going along with what other people want all the time because I don't have the confidence to do my own thing so I don't speak out when people are treating you like a piece of shit. I'm in one of those moods when you're longing for a really nice, relaxed hang-out with friends, but everyone's off doing other things, and whenever you're around anyone anyway they just piss you off, and you them. It's times like these you ask yourself panicked questions like 'Do I have any real friends? Like I know I have friends, but do I really have any of those friends that you can always turn to when time are tough, the ones you see in movies, like who spat on their hands as children and joined them together and promised they'd always be friends etc.' and feel like you're drifting away in this slow inevitable movement from everyone you once felt close to...
OMFG I AM SOOOOOOOOO EMO LOIKE!!!!!!!
It had to be said... But ye, I really should be able to explain myself, to reference whatever events set me off on this self-absorbed rant (or is it a spell of clear thinking? See, I really couldn't tell you. But I'll stop now) however I'm finding this difficult. It's probably just a tumult of lots of things, the time of year, looming exams, everybody feeling stressed out... I've just got this overwhelming feeling of longing for something I can't even identify. I try to fill it with food, with t.v, with conversation, with exercise, with study even, with... other, offbeat things... but it's like the hopes I bring to every task that this will be the one thing that will bring me back to normal make everything futile to begin with.
I want something new, something wild, something fresh, something crazy, something altogether different, something I've never thought of, something I've never experienced, someone who'll really get me, something that'll take my mind off everything, something inspirational, something enriching, something that I'll need, something that'll need me, something that'll make me feel close to something, something that'll make me feel achievement, something that'll demand all of my attention. blaffhjgjjhghjghjgjh!!!!!!!!!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Propa Crimbo
It's that time of year again! And I couldn't be more full of holiday cheer if you hooked the stuff up to my veins, or if you killed me, hollowed me out like a turkey, made holiday cheer stuffing, and crammed it up my ass.
I'm just one of those people who loves the Christmas Season. I can't help it. I wouldn't want to help it. While the rest of you scrooges were moaning about how the sudden drop in temperature these last few days has been giving you nipple frostbite, I've been relishing in this winter wonderland, licking frost off the ground like there's no tomorrow (not actually licking frost off the ground, because that's just dirty, but I was licking it with my eyes, as a watched it from the comfort of a warm fireside couch indoors, if that makes any sense at all, which it doesn't). Maybe it's my memories of last Christmas, which I spent in Canada with my cousins in their big mansion (expect some kind of look-back-to-last-Christmas blog in the near future for reasons why this was so amazing), which mean the cold weather evokes a sense of joy in my usually bitter and cold heart, I don't know. Whatever the reason is, I'm Christmas crazy and I'm hear to stay.
What do I love the most about Christmas you ask? Well, I'm a self-confessed lover of literally anything and everything to do with Christmas, but this year for some reason I've developed a deep desire, a craving much like the ones I assume pregnant women get, for mulled wine. I've only ever had mulled wine once, and that was years ago. I can barely remember the taste. But for some reason I want more of it, I want it so damn bad, I want pots and pots of it right now, steamy, sweet, warming, wholesome, liquidy, tasty, alcoholic, sexy mulled wine, and I want to be sitting around a real fire with my friends and we all have mulled wine in our hands and it's just starting to snow outside and there might be carollers somewhere maybe outside down the other end of the road I don't know.
When I sit and look at the frost outside I remember coming into my cousins house last year out of the bitter cold after a morning spent skiing - the wave of warmth when you get inside, the relief of peeling off the awkward ski-gear - lying down on the couch with the Little Sis watching Christmas with the Kranks drinking 'hot apple cider' to get some heat back into our frozen limbs. In fact, I like to imagine that mulled wine tastes a LOT like that hot apple cider did, which is probably just shameless nostalgia but anyway... it's weird though, who don't I just want hot apple cider? That would actually make sense... How fucked up do you have to be, honestly?
I went so far as to look up mulled wine on the interweb: it's a lot more complicated than I thought, I thought you just fucked wine in a pot and heated it, but as it turns out there are a number of finicky flavourings you need which probably make all the difference, most of which we just don't have, no matter how many times I empty the contents of our entire kitchen in search of them. So I've decided to make the Big Sis do it (what are women for anyway?); she'll probably make it better, and it means I don't have to do anything. So expect a euphoric after-sex mulled wine blog to follow this one, hopefully with a photo of me and the mulled wine in all its hot apple cider-esque glory. Alternatively, expect this to be my last ever blog, as I may die if and when the mulled wine does not taste exactly like the hot apple cider I had one time last year in Canada.
Adieu!
I'm just one of those people who loves the Christmas Season. I can't help it. I wouldn't want to help it. While the rest of you scrooges were moaning about how the sudden drop in temperature these last few days has been giving you nipple frostbite, I've been relishing in this winter wonderland, licking frost off the ground like there's no tomorrow (not actually licking frost off the ground, because that's just dirty, but I was licking it with my eyes, as a watched it from the comfort of a warm fireside couch indoors, if that makes any sense at all, which it doesn't). Maybe it's my memories of last Christmas, which I spent in Canada with my cousins in their big mansion (expect some kind of look-back-to-last-Christmas blog in the near future for reasons why this was so amazing), which mean the cold weather evokes a sense of joy in my usually bitter and cold heart, I don't know. Whatever the reason is, I'm Christmas crazy and I'm hear to stay.
What do I love the most about Christmas you ask? Well, I'm a self-confessed lover of literally anything and everything to do with Christmas, but this year for some reason I've developed a deep desire, a craving much like the ones I assume pregnant women get, for mulled wine. I've only ever had mulled wine once, and that was years ago. I can barely remember the taste. But for some reason I want more of it, I want it so damn bad, I want pots and pots of it right now, steamy, sweet, warming, wholesome, liquidy, tasty, alcoholic, sexy mulled wine, and I want to be sitting around a real fire with my friends and we all have mulled wine in our hands and it's just starting to snow outside and there might be carollers somewhere maybe outside down the other end of the road I don't know.
When I sit and look at the frost outside I remember coming into my cousins house last year out of the bitter cold after a morning spent skiing - the wave of warmth when you get inside, the relief of peeling off the awkward ski-gear - lying down on the couch with the Little Sis watching Christmas with the Kranks drinking 'hot apple cider' to get some heat back into our frozen limbs. In fact, I like to imagine that mulled wine tastes a LOT like that hot apple cider did, which is probably just shameless nostalgia but anyway... it's weird though, who don't I just want hot apple cider? That would actually make sense... How fucked up do you have to be, honestly?
I went so far as to look up mulled wine on the interweb: it's a lot more complicated than I thought, I thought you just fucked wine in a pot and heated it, but as it turns out there are a number of finicky flavourings you need which probably make all the difference, most of which we just don't have, no matter how many times I empty the contents of our entire kitchen in search of them. So I've decided to make the Big Sis do it (what are women for anyway?); she'll probably make it better, and it means I don't have to do anything. So expect a euphoric after-sex mulled wine blog to follow this one, hopefully with a photo of me and the mulled wine in all its hot apple cider-esque glory. Alternatively, expect this to be my last ever blog, as I may die if and when the mulled wine does not taste exactly like the hot apple cider I had one time last year in Canada.
Adieu!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Missing
No sign of the famous artist today... I bopped into the art room today full of anticipation to be greeted not by a supremely talented young artist fast becoming recognised internationally as such (as he rightly should be), but to my dismay the only one to be found there was a cantankerous old gremlin-queen on a P.M.T related hissy fit about Michelangello (ah Mr. O'C, we love you really). I felt dismayed, but was determined to uncover the truth behind the absence of our 'guest speaker'.
I should explain: it was in fact said gremlin-queen (I'm going to stop referring to him as gremlin-queen now because I actually respect him a lot and think he's an amazing teacher... he can just be a bit of a bitch from time to time...) who had announced to us last Friday that on Monday Cian McLoughlin would be 'flying in from London', where he currently has an exhibition, to speak to the class about continuing a career in art. I didn't question the obvious absurdity in this because I figured since Cian Mc Loughlin is a former student of O'C's he was allowed to call in a favour once in a while. But when McLoughlin never showed today, and O'C was subsequently in a supremely 'trollish' humour, I began to smell a rat.
Inquiring as to the whereabouts of the missing artist after a horrifyingly boring art history class on the Cistine Ceiling, O'C snapped that he had been 'delayed', in a tone which suggested perhaps there were underlying causes at play; his manner put me in mind of an embittered ex-lover , perhaps, whose heart had been broken by some insensitive bastard along the way, or of a hurt and confused Ghilberti, teacher of Donatello, who was eventually overtaken by his more talented pupil. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the man (but mostly I just hated him for the shite class we had just had.. but anyway).
Now all I can do is hope that Cian McLoughlin will keep his commitment, if he's not jetting of somewhere else because of his sold-out high-powered money-spinning 'fame art'... Ungrateful little brat... I gave him all I had... And he discarded me like an old oil paintbrush that hadn't been washed properly in white spirits immediately after use... ahem.
I should explain: it was in fact said gremlin-queen (I'm going to stop referring to him as gremlin-queen now because I actually respect him a lot and think he's an amazing teacher... he can just be a bit of a bitch from time to time...) who had announced to us last Friday that on Monday Cian McLoughlin would be 'flying in from London', where he currently has an exhibition, to speak to the class about continuing a career in art. I didn't question the obvious absurdity in this because I figured since Cian Mc Loughlin is a former student of O'C's he was allowed to call in a favour once in a while. But when McLoughlin never showed today, and O'C was subsequently in a supremely 'trollish' humour, I began to smell a rat.
Inquiring as to the whereabouts of the missing artist after a horrifyingly boring art history class on the Cistine Ceiling, O'C snapped that he had been 'delayed', in a tone which suggested perhaps there were underlying causes at play; his manner put me in mind of an embittered ex-lover , perhaps, whose heart had been broken by some insensitive bastard along the way, or of a hurt and confused Ghilberti, teacher of Donatello, who was eventually overtaken by his more talented pupil. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the man (but mostly I just hated him for the shite class we had just had.. but anyway).
Now all I can do is hope that Cian McLoughlin will keep his commitment, if he's not jetting of somewhere else because of his sold-out high-powered money-spinning 'fame art'... Ungrateful little brat... I gave him all I had... And he discarded me like an old oil paintbrush that hadn't been washed properly in white spirits immediately after use... ahem.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Crazy Organ Lady Goes to Lapland
Sunday was not a good day.
My deranged piano teacher HG, who for those of you without the limitless pleasure of having made her acquaintance is a Canadian-Irish hypochondriac rodent-woman whose interests include sacred organ music, apple juice, endless talk about nothing, and endless talk about herself (but we love her for it... ahem), took me out piano shopping (yes, I say it as off-handedly as that) to Pianos Plus. Unfortunately Pianos Plus is situated in the dead-centre of the middle of fucking nowhere, and to reach it one has to navigate around the notorious 'Mad Cow Roundabout', as HG so comically called it, which manages to keep up the road quality and bumpiness of an off-road rally track while still retaining the disorientating charm of a labyrinth. Not too fun. And I was tired. And HG was exceptionally animated and self-obsessed. A recipe for disaster.
She just wouldn't shut up about her beloved Pipeworks organ festival, with whose organisation she is vaguely involved and in which she probably wasn't even asked to take part, but still horned in on on account of her unfaltering self-importance. And for the love of jesus I do not care, have never cared, and will never, ever care about anything that concerns your friend Dk.
HG, while at the wheel:"Oh gosh, I have a cut on my arm! Oh, it goes right the way round! I don't even remember how I got that! That's so annoying, eh? It's actually really sore".
Me, unable to contain my utter disinterest:"Oh, that's awful. You should put a bandage on that."
HG:"No, it's completely fine. I know, it's awful! The funny thing is I don't even remember how I got it you know? That's the worst... It's still quite painful though, I just know it's going to be bothering me all day!"
Me:"Well it doesn't really look too serious, it almost looks like it's healed already."
HG:"No but it's really very sore. Oh gosh, but it's just so FUNNY..."
Oh yeah? Is that funny? Do you know what else would be really FUNNY? If I shoved your pathetic child's carton of apple juice down your throat!! UGGHHHHH!!!!
And do you know what else was really funny? When HG finally listened to my directions after about an hour of driving around in circles, when we finally arrived at the godforsaken place, it turned out that it was closed for Sunday. Oh joy.
"Oh noooooo... that's just awful, eh? Oh, I'm terrible I really should have checked, I knew that it was open on a Saturday and I just presumed it would be on a Sunday too... This is just so annoying eh? I really thought it would be open, I really did, I should have rang to check though... Gosh, it's just so FUNNY though.."
Don't tempt me woman.
My deranged piano teacher HG, who for those of you without the limitless pleasure of having made her acquaintance is a Canadian-Irish hypochondriac rodent-woman whose interests include sacred organ music, apple juice, endless talk about nothing, and endless talk about herself (but we love her for it... ahem), took me out piano shopping (yes, I say it as off-handedly as that) to Pianos Plus. Unfortunately Pianos Plus is situated in the dead-centre of the middle of fucking nowhere, and to reach it one has to navigate around the notorious 'Mad Cow Roundabout', as HG so comically called it, which manages to keep up the road quality and bumpiness of an off-road rally track while still retaining the disorientating charm of a labyrinth. Not too fun. And I was tired. And HG was exceptionally animated and self-obsessed. A recipe for disaster.
She just wouldn't shut up about her beloved Pipeworks organ festival, with whose organisation she is vaguely involved and in which she probably wasn't even asked to take part, but still horned in on on account of her unfaltering self-importance. And for the love of jesus I do not care, have never cared, and will never, ever care about anything that concerns your friend Dk.
HG, while at the wheel:"Oh gosh, I have a cut on my arm! Oh, it goes right the way round! I don't even remember how I got that! That's so annoying, eh? It's actually really sore".
Me, unable to contain my utter disinterest:"Oh, that's awful. You should put a bandage on that."
HG:"No, it's completely fine. I know, it's awful! The funny thing is I don't even remember how I got it you know? That's the worst... It's still quite painful though, I just know it's going to be bothering me all day!"
Me:"Well it doesn't really look too serious, it almost looks like it's healed already."
HG:"No but it's really very sore. Oh gosh, but it's just so FUNNY..."
Oh yeah? Is that funny? Do you know what else would be really FUNNY? If I shoved your pathetic child's carton of apple juice down your throat!! UGGHHHHH!!!!
And do you know what else was really funny? When HG finally listened to my directions after about an hour of driving around in circles, when we finally arrived at the godforsaken place, it turned out that it was closed for Sunday. Oh joy.
"Oh noooooo... that's just awful, eh? Oh, I'm terrible I really should have checked, I knew that it was open on a Saturday and I just presumed it would be on a Sunday too... This is just so annoying eh? I really thought it would be open, I really did, I should have rang to check though... Gosh, it's just so FUNNY though.."
Don't tempt me woman.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
On Depression
While I'm pretty sure I have never been depressed, taking the clinical usage of the word(I've thought about it, have had to think about it, have been very confused by it, and I'm almost completely certain), but I've suffered from the effects of depression for the most part of my life. Some of my oldest and most defined memories concern it, and I can say confidently that it has played a huge part in shaping the person who I have become.
People who have never experienced depression hands on can only assume it is an awful thing, and in one way they're completely spot on: it throws your whole perspective on life and relationships into confusion, puts unbelievable stress on any individual who has depression or knows someone who does, can be enraging at times, and tests you to your very limits of patience and understanding. It is terribly painful to face, the main reason why it is not spoken about publicly: some go so far as to say it is stigmatising (they're right).
I'd be willing to wager I have more understanding of, or at least have given more thought to depression than, say, most people in my year would have, but of course you can never really know what's going on behind closed doors, and so maybe we're all dealing with it, in one way or another. But why can't we know about it? Why can't it be discussed? It's extremely relevant in society today, figures will tell you, and the devastating effects that it can have should arguably provoke some public debate. What's with the big cover up people?
People don't mind talking about cancer do they? or diabetes? 'Manic depression' is now a recognised illness, and is treated by trained medical professionals where appropriate. So why all the taboo? The very existence of something as innately dangerous and threatening as depression is a big factor. The fact that it occurs at all raises serious questions about our understanding of human life, and the idea of the success of the western world (don't even get me started) - shouldn't we all be happy now? The idea that a naturally occurring tendency can become even more powerful than our need to procreate forces us to raise questions about any understanding of the meaning of life we might have within ourselves, something many people would rather just avoid, even when doing this comes at a horrible price.
I have half a mind that depression is not an 'illness' at all, it's just that to define it as one is so much more convenient than asking the questions that would crop up if that were untrue; after all, the fact that people who are medicated for depression experience even worse bouts of mania every time they go off the drugs suggests that we're not really treating it at all. I think it's not treatable; because it's just people (don't get me wrong; the drugs have there uses, but they do not cure mental 'illness'. fact.)
But I don't know enough about that to say anything for certain, it's just a thought. And now I gone and gone off the point, damnit. What I was trying to get to was that I think depression should be more openly discussed, especially among guys, who in my experience are worse for pretending it's nothing too serious, or that it's not there. I'm not saying people should shout it from the rooftops and make personalised t-shirts proclaiming their state of mind, but if you can't talk to your friends or your family, chances are you won't talk to anyone.
Once or twice I've had reason to think that one of my friend's was suffering from depression, and that other friends weren't giving the thing the seriousness it deserved or didn't really know what to make of it. I wanted to talk to the person but they were extremely difficult to approach about it. I knew the person would definitely have seen it as personal weakness to admit to something as basically human as feeling sad. It made me feel terrible that I couldn't bring myself to just give them a hug and say 'I'm there for you', but I couldn't as long as the person remained so outwardly unfazed. And it fucking pisses me off that the situation can exist where someone feels they can't admit something like that, because of the shame or the stigma, the associations.
This person seems to be ok now. I think the thing has sorted itself out for now at least, so they're in no danger. But if something were to happen again, I'd like to know that they wouldn't have doubts about telling someone what they're going through. That's all really.
God don't really want to end on a 'where is the love?' note but that's where it's heading, so I'm going to just leave it here. See'yall soon now!
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