Sunday, December 18, 2011

Hope Photography

This is part of a project I did on the theme of hope, but I didn't really like any of the other pictures I came up with. I like this though.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Waiting for the Psychiatrist

I'm waiting to see the psychiatrist to ask him for something to take the edge off my life. I always get the best ideas for stories in crazy places like here. The walls are cinder blocks, painted white. The carpet appears to be made of blue brillo pads. The seats are orange. I am offended by the colour scheme.

I don't speak to the other girl in the waiting room, I'm analysing her. I want to know what's wrong with her. We'd probably be friends, us both being loonies. She has a blonde streak plaited into her bobbed brown hair. She has that pretty but hunted look of Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted. I notice that she's got a bookmark in every single page of her copy of 'Pride, Prejudice and Zombies.' Proof, I think, that she's crazy.

In fairness, she probably thinks I'm mad, too. So far I've gotten out of my seat three times: Once to ask the receptionist a question, once to get hand sanitizer and once for what must have seemed like no reason at all (was going to ask a question again but decided against it).

I'm reasonably sure I can hear the psychiatrist cutting his toenails behind his office door. The sound is unmistakable. So that's what they do all day! Later on, he will tell me that his room is very well insulated and it's impossible to tell if there are people outside it.

She gets called in before me. Her name is Justine, and I wonder whether she'll be crying when she comes out. It's half past four. My appointment was at four. The budget is being broadcast on the radio. It would drive you crazy if you weren't already there. It occurs to me that I may be considerably madder than I think and I may have imagined the psychiatrist, or for that matter, this whole situation.

Justine isn't crying when she comes out. The offices are like a maze. I still want to know what's wrong with her. I imagine she looks thin, but in reality she's just a slim teenager. The psychiatrist appears to go back to cutting his toenails and doesn't call me in for quite some time.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Naas Mayor Refuses to Deal with 'Black Africans'

This is disgusting and downright dangerous. If our leaders are allowed to be racist then it becomes okay for everyone else. I hope this blows up into a shitstorm. I'm so ashamed to have to share oxygen with people like this. Part of me is wishing this will become an international scandal because it is a huge deal and he shouldn't be let away with it, another part of me fears that if this happens, all Irish people will be branded as stupid and backward as this gentleman.

This man's job is to represent and protect a large community. It does not say in the job description that he is the representative of some of the people of Naas. He does not get to pick and choose who he represents within Naas. Isn't the mayor supposed to be on your side? That may be a naive notion but at least most mayors aren't so in your face about it.

If he's experiencing aggression, that's fine, don't deal with people who are aggressive to you. I'm sure plenty of white Irish are aggressive to him but he's not coming out and saying he won't deal with white Irish people. You can't just come out and say a whole description of person is aggressive and you won't deal with any of them. I could say that I have seen Irish people who are stupid racists but I don't go and decide that they all are (no matter how tempted I may be at this present moment, we do not think like this man).

Is this legal? Labour TD Aodhán Ó Ríordáin (!/AodhanORiordain) tweeted that he is reporting Darren Scully to An Garda Síochána (the Irish police) for incite to hatred.

Twitter is hopping about this and I hope it gets picked up on an international forum.

The most typical part of it all is that he's surprised he's being called racist.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Tiny Bedroom Storage Solutions?

Please help me. My bedroom is a box room. It's tiny and I can't fit half my things in it. I have no idea what to do.

My wardrobe is packed to capacity and is only holding half my clothes. The top shelf is a mess filled with clothes that don't fit and badly-organised things I hardly use, like snorkelling gear haha.

I have a drawer full of a stuff under my bed that I never use and yet have been unable to throw out. I think I need to shut my eyes and bin it all without looking so I can use the space for things I actually need, but I just know that if I look in it I'll be like "OMG I need this." And promptly put it back and never use it again. I think I get scared at the prospect of throwing stuff out because I never really had loads of things.

Also, my mother, who I love dearly, doesn't help! She's all "You need to declutter" and that but when I try to throw anything out she intercepts me, starts going through the stuff and asks questions like "Why are you throwing out this old scrap of dirty fabric (or whatever), are you sure you won't need it?" At which point I burst into tears and declare that I can't bear to part with it and that I know the minute I throw it out I'll realise that I urgently need it.

My bedside locker is also filled with belts and shit that I NEVER USE and yet also cannot bear to get rid of. The result is that the stuff I do use which came out of my old house where my room was bigger is in boxes and I can never find or use any of it because my useless shit takes pride of place! All my art supplies, my make up and jewellery, my clothes, bags, accessories like hats and scarves and shoes as well as my books and CDs are all packed up in boxes in the spare room. They make me sad just to look at them. The thought of unpacking them is extremely sad and overwhelming, like accepting my fate, but I still wish to do so and I have nowhere to unpack them to! I feel homeless. I have shelter and at home I even have family to love me but no real place to keep my things. I know, it's a first world problem and there are people on the streets much worse off than I. Knowing this doesn't stop it bothering me though. I'd like to unpack, make a home for myself and carry on with my life but my own clutter is holding me back.

Maybe this is just a physical manifestation of what I'm doing mentally. Clearing out the old, painful though that is, and replacing it with the new, shiny, positive, useful thoughts which make me happy, which don't bog me down or hold me back! I need to tackle it, and I'd love to do it tomorrow (because it's 3am now) but I have so much project work to do for college, PLUS I need to find a job, PLUS I'm going out for dinner and dancing (haha we are an old couple) with Sophie. Well don't get me wrong, I want to go out with Sophie, it's just an example of not having enough time! And on Sunday I'm heading back to Dublin so I won't get time! Aaaaagh!

On one hand I want my life to slow down so I can catch my breath since I'm always so busy, on the other hand, the thought of having nothing to do at the moment absolutely terrifies me! Well, okay actually, I've thought about it, and it doesn't terrify me any more. It scares me a bit. But I have found things to occupy my time like meditating, singing, dancing, going to town, reading... and painting if I can ever dig my art things out again :(

Friday, November 4, 2011

The One That Got Away

When I first heard this song, I really liked it, and I thanked my lucky stars that I would never be singing it about you. It's like the world has turned upside down - what were once my nightmares are now reality, and what was once my reality is now my dreams.

Summer after high school, when we first met
We'd make out in your Mustang to Radiohead
And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos
Used to steal your parents' liquor and climb to the roof
Talk about our future, like we had a clue
Never planned that one day I'd be losing you

And in another life, I would be your girl

We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world
And in another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were the one that got away
The one that got away

I was dreaming you were my Johnny Cash

Never one without the other, we made a pact
Sometimes when I miss you, I put those records on
Someone said you had your tattoo removed
Saw you downtown singing the blues
Its time to face the music, I'm no longer your muse

And in another life, I would be your girl

We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world
And in another life, I would make you stay
So I don't have to say you were the one that got away
The one that got away.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Seven Days

seven days have made me older, and thinner, since the last time i saw your perfect face, twisted with rage.

i look up at the sun shining nicely and i think, 'doesn't it know?' i hear the buskers playing jaunty music and i wonder why nobody has told them. i watch the news and wonder how anyone can care about any of that shit when we have broken up. i walk down the street in dublin city centre and it feels utterly depopulated, because one person is missing. but not any one person. you are missing.

when we first fell in love, i was crazy. i was going through the throes of a bad break up. i wasn't eating. i was drinking violently. i was destructive. and you loved me anyway. you loved me, when i made myself so fucking hard to love. i should have known it was too good to be true. i should have known i would fuck it up. it took me long enough, but i managed. it's true. i can't bear to be happy. i compulsively, irresistibly attract trouble into my life. i want to get better.

and i need to get thinner again. i've lost ten pounds so far this week, so the going is good, and i think it's pretty obvious that i'm dedicated. today, two different people told me that my face looks thin again. there was a hole in my heart so i threw away my plate, because nothing filled me up, no matter what i ate.

i constantly feel like i'm having a heart attack. i'm having palpitations and a constant crushing pain in my chest. at night, i cry so hard that i can't breathe. i feel like my grief is literally suffocating me.

seven days is by far the longest i have gone without speaking to you in three years now. this is ridiculous. this is not natural. we are meant to be together. i can't imagine the world any other way. there's a huge gap where we should be.

i wish we could be together again. if only we could, things would be different. i would make me so damn easy to love. i think about you constantly. everything reminds me of you. surely you must feel the same? surely the light must be blinding to you, too? surely you are lonely, and bored, and you cry all night in your empty bed, made up on my side? surely you haven't just forgotten me? how could you? we were madly, unstoppably in love for three years. surely you haven't moved on? don't you miss me? aren't you wracked with a constant, unquenchable urge to call me, or run to me, just to see me again?

this is every single one of my worst nightmares coming true at once. when i had those nightmares, i would wake up in a pool of sweat, in tears, terrified, but i had absolutely no idea how much a world without you would really hurt. the human mind cannot comprehend that level of pain. this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. the pain is unbelievable, worse than any physical pain. i have to constantly fight the instinct to get up and run, keep running forever, to run for my life, but it won't do anything. wherever i go, it will be there. it's like having my hand on the stove and not being able to take it away.

i wrote a poem about you. when we first met. it was almost prophetic.

i miss you when you're gone
like i know it's all a dream, everything
everything is grey
like every sky is grey when you're gone
when you're here every sky is jet black and sparkling
twinkling in the velvet
me and you
twinkling star-crossed sometimes i wonder
how long til you're gone forever?
dancing in the velvet near the water
so close to dancing in
drowning in the velvet sometimes i wonder
why do i miss you when you're gone?

and you can tell everybody, that was your poem. and yes, that was before i almost danced into the river and you caught me. i mean, really did find love in a hopeless place. we found love in athleague. at the end of the world, we found love. and in dublin, in the middle of every going-on in the country, we lost it.

i just want to talk to you. for three years, i told you every thought that entered my head. i showed you everything i saw. i talked to you about everything. even those things too strong to convey in words, we shared, silently. and now... total silence. not understanding, comfortable silence. deafening, agonising, huge, searing, white silence. i'm screaming and nobody can hear. i'm screaming my lungs up and no sound is coming out.

all the paths i walk head straight to you, and yet it's as if i'm on a treadmill. you never get any closer to my grasp. i feel like my stomach is full of jet black stinking tar. i miss you so badly. i love you so much. i want you more than i want my next breath.

i don't see what anyone can see in anyone else.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Fuck. My. Shitty. Life

My boyfriend is gone. My friends are gone. I'm homeless in the emotional sense. In the physical sense, my rent has tripled. My hamster died. My dog has a doggie version of Alzheimer's. I have to pay college fees that I wasn't supposed to have to pay. My grant money won't lodge for another three weeks, and I've maxed out my overdraft. And my back tooth is crumbling out of my head.

I'm dying to know what you've got in store for me next, God. I have to compliment you on your creativity thus far.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Please vote for me?

I spent a really long time on this! You design a room for a Radisson hotel and if you win, you get to stay in your room for 30 days in the year, which would be so awesome. I think the whole atmosphere I was trying to give off is hawt too. So please vote for me?

Monday, July 4, 2011

Ghost Estates

We intended to go play tennis, but we somehow got distracted and explored some ghost estates. Only one of them produced okay pictures though, so I'm gonna discuss that here. Here's the view of a massive on from the road. Only four houses were ever built but we still explored it for ages.

Here you can see the four houses clearly. They were a really long walk away!

There was stuff everywhere that I imagine could be sold for lots of moneys. Technically these estates don't belong to anybody. The companies that built them don't exist any more and the banks don't want them because of how much they would cost to clean them up. In my head I imagined that construction in these places had simply paused and would eventually resume, but logically I know that this will never happen. A hundred years from now they will stand, overgrown, as a tribute to what they might call the Great Recession.

This ran all the way up the side, I imagine it would be a reasonable-sized stream in winter.

Here you can see that the site just goes on forever. This would have cost the developers millions of euros to buy. For each proposed estate the developers had to pay the county council €200,000 euro to clean it up and make it safe for it the company went bust, but this money appears to have disappeared down the cracks.

Squillions of red bricks that are going to go to waste.

We found a bike too. I have no idea how it got here or who just left their bike behind them, but it was rusted stuck, the pedals wouldn't even turn.

Foundations as far as the eye could see. Why didn't they build it in stages?

As you might be able to guess from the size of the gravel underfoot, this adventure was seriously hard on the ankles. You could so easily hurt yourself, but I'm not blaming anybody or giving out about this instance, this estate is fenced off and boarded up, I went in here knowing exactly what sort of dangers I could have been putting myself in. On the other hand, we visited a different estate with some people living in it, unfinished, with all sorts of dangerous terrain and materials lying around. How would I feel if I had bought one of these houses off plan, as was so common, and now I had to live on a building site unsafe for any children I might have for the rest of my life?

It goes off for miles in the other direction.

Foundations forever.

Some semblance of what would have become a road.

The four houses, looking like outcrops in a vast desert.

These electric cables weren't properly covered, I could in theory have just lifted the cover off.

Judging by the number on the door, they had high hopes for this place. Note the mould on the door handle.

A picture through the window of the house farthest to the left. This must have been intended to be the show house. Look at the fancy, modern wallpaper and wooden floors. (I still thought of the model home from Arrested Development. Actually, this whole estate reminds me of that.)

Here's the view of the four houses close up.

Yes, those are salt shakers in the back kitchen window. It's amazing, it's got a Mary Celeste vibe to it, although nobody ever actually lived here. It's totally inaccessible by car. There was a brand-new washing machine in there too, still in its shrink wrap. It's incredibly sad to think that there are people homeless on Ireland's streets when this house which will never be used is locked up.

This is the side/back garden of that house. The thistles were nearly as tall as I am.

Rolls of designer wallpaper going mouldy and sunbleached in the window.

See the corrosion on the door handle? I just wonder, is this because it was neglected, and if so how? Is it just a cheap door handle, and would this have happened even if there were people living here? Overall the impression was that these houses were incredibly poorly and cheaply built, as was the case with most of these totally unnecessary estates. There are almost five thousand of these ghost estates in Ireland. What were these developers thinking? Who did they imagine was going to move into them? Where were these people going to appear out of?

I hadn't expected it, but the doors on the houses were rather shortsightedly locked. I was hence not surprised to discover one of the back windows smashed. I didn't go in because I would have cut myself to ribbons.

In any case, it wasn't necessary, as only the first two houses had door handles. It was easy to get into the third and fourth houses.

As you can see they're not well built. There are no proper walls inside the house, when they were finished you could have punched through to your next-door neighbour. It's just aluminium and fiberglass, which would eventually have been plasterboarded over. I imagine the finished houses would have been freezing in the winter.

The picture seen below is the dividing wall between two houses. You would not only have heard your neighbours' music or their baby crying, you would have heard them turn over in bed with walls so thin.

How much is all this wasted foam insulation worth? It breaks my heart to see waste because I was raised not to waste anything and I was raised to know the value of everything.

No stairs, just a ladder up. Mark climbed it and said there was nothing to see so I saved conquering my fear of heights for something more worthy.

Here you can see the gap under the back door.

Just aluminium with a cement chimney.

Piles and piles of beautiful tiles, stacked up, never to be used.

The view back to the road, with more piles of red bricks.

You can see here that the houses came flat-packed.

Here is an absolute mountain of what I can only assume was sand or gravel or something. It probably cost a lot of money. Now there's four-foot-high grass growing on it and it's lost forever.

The 'road' back to civilisation. I was getting pretty tired at this stage.

I thought it was pretty cool how so much can grow in a place like this.

Here's what was probably the site office. Lol at the fact that the gate was bolted shut!

The cows freaked out when they saw us and started stampeding all over the gaff.

I found this 'No Overtaking' sign humourous.

Massive concrete pipes.

I sustained a sexy injury exiting the site, as the wall was higher on the exit side than the entrance side. It doesn't look like much here but it will bruise nicely.

And some random photos off my camera for your viewing pleasure. Here's the sea at Bundoran from when we went there on our anniversary.

Here's Mark drinking Tesco energy drink stuff... I think it's called kick.

And of course no post is complete without a picture of me, is it?

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Pictures of Mark and I Eating

I know, I love myself too. I have been working on some poetry lately, due to the growing rash of misery on my body, but I just hate it too much to show you. The good news is that I'll probably go back to my old self fairly soon. Right now though, I'm going to show you pictures of the night we went out for dinner in a Thai restaurant.

I honestly have no idea where my life is going.

Oh God, this is really hard because I'm in one of those moods where I think I'm ugly in every single picture ever taken of me.

Oh well, here comes the camwhore.

My favourite photos of myself are always the ones where I look five.

I love taking photos of Mark. He's so adorable and gorgeous and you can't get him to sit still for five seconds so you get some really great expression shots. You can see why I write stories about him.

This was the closest to getting him to stay still but you can still see his lip twitching.

Oh and it was around this time that I started learning how to Photoshop stuff. Well, how to use GIMP, because I'm poor. This was the first picture where I properly shopped the whole thing, you can see the difference between the before and after (even though they aren't the exact same picture). I think it's really good for a first attempt! I especially like the awesome job I did whitening my teeth. Mark, unlike me, is beautiful and doesn't need to be shopped.

All this happened before we even left the house. I always feel embarrassed taking photos in public even though everyone does it! That's why there aren't many after now. That's a fear I really need to get over.

I think we're a really cute couple even if I am a hose beast. His gorgeousity balances out my -ness.

Okay I'm pretty cute in the photo below so I'm leaving it.

Mark has this little problem where his phone somehow got surgically attached to his hand. It pops out at really inoppurtune moments at times so if anyone has any idea how to deal with this please feel free to contribute.

Although at this time it was reasonable as he was looking up on the internet how to use chopsticks so we'd look cultured.

Then our starter came. It looks scrumptious in this nicely edited photo doesn't it?

Here's Mark drinking beer for your viewing pleasure.

And here's my main course, it was duck of some description, I started eating it before I remembered that I wanted to take a photo of it.

Updates? I'm going to DCU in September to do Multimedia. I'm dying my hair some Bedlam colour because who am I kidding, nobody is going to hire me anyway. I'm working on averting my overwhelming apathy and starting my own computer repair business. I need tax and insurance for my car and I'm poor. Have I mentioned before that I'm poor? Sigh. Please guys, hurry up with the Nobel prize so I can get on with my life.