Date: March 2009
Theme: Big lips and Payslips
Venue: Dáil Éireann
Proof of pay deductions will be required on entry.
All those in attendence must be suitably pissed off!
It’s not hard to fall when you flow like a cannonball January 22, 2009
I’m striding to work. Both hands loaded with my previous night’s sweat and blood. I begin to pick up the pace after my cautious crawl downhill. “Isn’t the ground pretty, so sparkly…”.
It’s a big day for me, my future rests on one man. Inspector Hatchet. I made sure to practise batting my eyelashes and flashing sweet smiles in the mirror before stressing about what one must wear for such a man. I went Katie Holmes in Dawson’s Creek on my ass. “The wholesome, safe, reliable look would be right up his alley”, I decide.
All primed I gather the fruits of my labour giving them one look over to be sure to be sure. Turning the key and blaring Kings of Leon down on my iPod I bounce down the street brimming with confidence. “Today is gonna be a good day”.
I smile at randomers, juggle bags from one shoulder to the other and wave at a grinning toddler thrilled with his rattle in the backseat of a car. I turn the final corner where my future awaits me when my skirt ends up around my ears.
I had become so distracted by everything and nothing that I had failed to notice a thick patch of ice on the sloping path. I fell like a tonne of bricks, flat on my back, legs in the air, a la John Dorian. It takes me a minute to realise what had actually happened.
Quickly, I tuck my Bridget Jones’ out of the public eye and attempted to pull myself back up. “Phew, no one around”. Red cheeks tame down. “Shite, no one around!”. Can’t get up. I slowly gather myself together and in a daze spot a ledge close to where I’d crash landed. I slide myself down the path a little and grab a hold of the windowsill. With every last morsel of might I drag myself to my feet and edge my way to an ice free patch on the path.
I begin to feel every last milimetre that made contact with the ground, drawing my attention away from my blackened coat and skirt. I trudge up the hill to work, the debris on my tights loosing from my pained stagger. Tears trickle down my cheeks as the sting reaches my eyes.
In the gate. A collegue smiles. “All set for the today?”. I try and I can’t answer. I had a date with the packet of painkillers and a soapy towel.
Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself January 21, 2009
I ran away. I often run to avoid the difficult things life throws in my path. I let my feet look after the problem gagging my heart and head. I rushed love and hurt out the door. I slammed the book shut on recent chapters in my life. I switched off my mind and body and drifted into my numb oasis in my little land of nothing. All feeling and sentiment paused, the rewind control removed. I tucked memories into far corners of my clouded head and closed the door on the creation of new ones.
The holidays passed in an insignificant blur. The night became my mistress and the day a distant stranger. Close friends battled to keep me afloat with gentle smiles and encouraging hands. They were rewarded with empty grins and forced validations of my well being.
Woke up. Dragged myself to the bathroom. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The lack of sleep had aged my face, it looked pained and swollen. For the first time in a long time I greeted me in the mirror. This person staring back didn’t look like me. Her nails were bitten, her eyes puffy and dark, her skin grey. She bore through me as she studied my face trying to find something familiar. A smile creeped onto her lips. She’d found what she was looking for. Me.
The wall is still there. The bricks are taking their time to loosen, but amidst all the hardness I found myself peeking back. It wasn’t a reflection I’d seen before but in there I found a glimpse of what I once was, someone I’d been estranged from for longer than I’d realised.
I’m lucky. I’m lucky I’ve found the hammer to start slowly breaking down that barrier. The hammer that has made spaces for possibility to re-enter my life and holes that spy on hope. Our defences are kicked into gear when we hurt, walls are thrown up and people we care about are often left on the outside looking in. Strength rarely makes it inside those walls and only gains entry when those bricks start to come down one by one. Some bricks are lighter than others, some weigh on you for days and other tumble down on top of you. Each of those blocks was cemented in heartache, a heartache that must be faced everytime that hammer sounds.
I would never be me again if I continued to live with a hardened heart, I’d be parting with any possibility for happiness. Right now I feel more awake than ever, I’ve just rejoined the human race. The troll lifestyle just didn’t suit me. I’m finally letting myself admit how I truely feel to myself and others. I can be me again now, be that happy or sad, confused or clear headed, wired or mellow.
No more pushing problems under the carpet. Getting up and facing it even if it’s blubbering into a pizza at 6am with your best friend looking on with her penny’s worth at the ready then so be it. Life goes on and I’m not going to miss it for anything. Better to feel shit sometimes than not to feel at all.
Believe it or no January 5, 2009
Fighting through the bitter cold, up the cobbled hill. Hat. Check. Gloves. Check. Coat. Check. Scarf. Check. Fabulous new handbag I just spent a fortune on still decorating my right shoulder. Check.
On we marched in the search for the entrance to the castle that inspired the infamous Hoggwarts. The shadow of Christmas still cast over the city as red cheeked locals enjoy their last day off before returning to the grindstone tomorrow. The cloud of last night still following us up the hill, it’s not quite ready to leave just yet. The one ‘o clock gun fires. The morning after blur scared away. Glad to see the back of it we continued on up the hill dragging each of our four who were refusing to co-operate after the torturous weekend of bar crawling we subjected them to.
Left or right? Right. Another hill. We’d come this far there was no turning back now. Then it hit us, just another corner and we were there, this monstrosity, my dream home! (Well to be honest if I had a cannon in my own home I think that’d suffice). So we picked up our tickets, took pictures of happy couples who’s cameras were full of pictures containing only one of them in front of every stone building they came across and began fiddling with our audio thingymagiggies. We had a listen, a look, a goo and a gaa before deciding all castles are pretty much the same.
I’m now sitting in the pretty lobby of my hotel. My travel partner is suffering with a case of the Winter Aids and is sleeping soundly so I figured I may aswell venture out of our cosy little room and wait for this evenings entertainment to arrive on this not so comfy chair. There are benefits to the surroundings here though, the modern decor and blazing fire come second only to the hunky ozzy to the left who has been smiling and chatting away to me this past while a charm the poorly snoozer in the room just doesn’t have right now, bless her.
Well my phone has just sounded to let me know my entertainment is making his way around the corner and must be greeted with a pint. To the bar I must go…
The goodies under the tree… December 29, 2008
I’m just back from my weekend in Wexford testing out my Santa present. Apparently being good does pay off, I got what I asked for 
. Santa brought me lots of naughty and plenty of opportunities to put it to work.
My weekend of debauchery began at a housewarming in a monstrosity of a house before heading on to a session in a ickle bar in the arse end of nowhere, a place where boundaries do not exsist. Had an absolute blast with the farmer folk consuming my Guinness, blackcurrant and antibiotic bomb and dabbling in a bit of oh-so-comical cherades (which I discovered I have an incredible talent for).
Last night we popped back to the bar on our way back from Xtravision to check in on the casulties from the night before who were back in for the hair of the dog. There he sat on the bar licking his wounds and feeling so very sorry for himself. His checks were red from the previous night’s excitement, he really did create quite the scene. He had come down from the ceiling exhausted and well, quite battered. I have to say I did feel a little sorry for him as everyone looked on and laughed at his misfortune, he had lost the “jolly” from the previous night. Afterall T did send the hanging Santa flying across the room and into the pile of clean glasses behind the counter giving him a black eye and a bruised ego as he slumped on the counter instead of hanging with his other Santa buddies.
Edinburgh is just around the corner now so all Scots be warned I will be arriving Saturday with Santa present in tow.
Dear Santa December 24, 2008
I have tried and tried and tried to be a good girl this year.
I’ve cleaned my room, helped mum and dad, brought my sister out shopping days, been a sister rather than a second mother to my brother. I’ve loved and lumped it. I joined the gym and appear to keep getting unhealthier.
Christmas is tomorrow and I know this is late reaching you but God seems to have done a runner on me. I’m lying in bed, I’ve pulled a muscle in my chest from coughing, which might I add is agony, I’ve a dual infection and a migraine that could take down a pride of lions. Not forgetting the antibiotics and painkillers that cause nausea, the loveless love life and the mountain of work that needs to be done on my days off.
So Santa what I’d really like for Christmas is the energy to be really really naughty cause nice is getting me nowhere!
You can sail your ships around me… December 16, 2008
Have you ever felt lost in a black hole? Like life and the people you have come to love are whizzing around you and can’t see you?
Have you ever felt like crying at the cashiers in your local Tesco as you stumble across a forgotten photograph in the rummage for your wandering credit card?
Have you ever felt a smile would crack your face at times when tears seem to soften it?
Have you ever felt feelings you can’t control or understand?
Have you ever stood at the bus stop in the pouring rain letting one, two and three of the buses going your way to pass without stopping?
Have you ever kissed the best looking guy in the bar and not returned his calls because all you needed from him is to know you still have it?
Have you ever felt so hurt that you begin to push away the people who do care because you’re afraid they too will hurt you eventually?
Have you ever wondered if people are capable of understanding who you are and what you’ve been through?
Have you ever willed with all your might that a day or event will never come even though you know it will?
Have you ever wished time would stop and let you out for a while?
Have you ever wished Kleenex made bigger tissues?
Sleepless in silk December 8, 2008
In the past walking up Grafton Street at Christmas time saw the twinkle flicker into my eye as I became transfixed by the Christmas lights flooding the street. This weekend that glint was the reflection of the flirting eyes that met mine on the ass freezing stroll from dinner to the nearest watering hole.
Distracted by the click clacking of my oh-so-fabulous new heels I was whisked away to my own little land of Oz. The light banter with friends quickly became the backdrop to all the drama going on around us as the yellow brick road stretched out ahead.
The crying girlfriend swatting away her boyfriend’s touch. The elderly couple linking for warmth. The couple whose eyes were wandering in different directions. The beer-filled stags from Scotland. The group of guys fanning their feathers hoping the object of their affections would chose them. The middle aged couple dancing next to the street performer. The drunk. The sober. The lonely. The loud. The quiet. The happy. The sad. The young. The old…and me.
I was walking with four great friends, tummies warmed by the incredible meal we just ate. Fingers tingling from the cold. Smiles brimming from ear to ear after catching up on the weeks, even months we’d missed in eachother’s lives. This night was about us, for us. We talked. We listened. We laughed. We cried.
As I stared at the road ahead unable to see its end, I strode on through the bitter cold and the pain (beautiful heels come at a price), my phone whistled.
It was a message.
A message full of possibilities.
A leopard never changes its spots December 3, 2008
I have been asked not to blog the truth.
I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. I’ve been mulling it over in my head and have yet to come up with a conclusion. It seems to appear that the truth hurts and I for one am very much aware of this feeling.
I ask then, why I, after the truth being dangled before my eyes, should be the one to hold back, why I should be the one to exercise self control in order to protect the feelings of someone who’s laziness in this department has reduced me to a blubbering mess over the past few days. Why must I always be the grown up?
See I knew what came on the CV and I still gave him the job. It’s difficult not to feel stupid, but I know that being naiive was my only wrong doing. Relationships always go through rough patches, it’s in their nature. Relationships end that too is in their nature. It just hurts to think that my trust issues all along weren’t just me even though I’d been convinced of it. This leopard is clever with words and charm but his spots will never change. I’m just thankful I woke up and saw each spot for what it really is.
Truth hurts, yes. It hurts until you accept it and deal with it. If you don’t deal with it your truth will continue to hurt anyone you try to love.
I won’t be hurt anymore.
The things money can buy… December 1, 2008
My credit card has bought me so many pleasures lately. On Saturday it got a workout in George’s Street Arcade where I purchased an incredible corset and pencil skirt that I poured myself into (or rather Darren poured me into-he’s in the wrong business). Sunday saw me hand over the remainder of the loan I received from my Dad.
Today the ATM whizzed as it counted the notes. My hands began to shake. I knew what I was doing. I had made my decision. This is it. I walked down the street trying to hold my head up high, trying to battle the tickle in my tear ducts and the itch in my throat.
Buzz.
A phone call later I hear footsteps. I’m met with a mother’s hug. A woman who represented a family I grew to love as my own. I placed the package into her hand and smiled in an attempt to conceal the aching. “I’m doing ok”, I lied.
Today I purchased closure.
