Writer’s Block

I have severe writers block right now.
I simply have nothing to say.
This is upsetting because it makes writing a blog a difficult pastime and I was really enjoying that.
I think the block is mainly because I’m tired, so thoughts aren’t processing that well and any ideas that do manage to form tend to get stuck on their way to becoming a post.
It’s actually rather frustrating so I’ll work on fixing that =)
Until then, do try not to miss me too much. It’ll be tough I know.
I think this is possibly my shortest post ever, but that makes sense given the topic…

It’s a matter of Pride

At both the quarter final and the semi final of the gaelic football I was contemplating writing a post called “It’s a matter of pride.” Yesterday I decided that if we won I’d write the post. We eh… didn’t win. But it’s still a matter of pride. So here’s the post:

If you asked me if I was into sports (not that you’d be likely to ask me) I’d probably say no. I’d probably be lying.
When I’m standing in PE getting yelled at by a guy who doesn’t know my name, and getting notes about effort( notes in PE WTF?!), it doesn’t feel like I’m into sport.
When my dad’s roaring at the TV and i’m rolling my eyes and wishing he’d change the channel to something other than football, it doesn’t feel like I’m into sports.
When it’s the closing minutes of the All Ireland Final and there’s tears streaming down my face because damn it this could’ve been our year- it feels like maybe I’m sort of into sports.

If you asked me where I’m from (not that you’d be likely to ask me) I’d tell you it was complicated, but ultimately I’d say Cork. I tried to tell one of the RAs at CTYI that and he wouldn’t believe me, he told me I had the Cork spirit (I was wearing a jersey at the time) but I wasn’t actually from Cork.
Even though I’ve never lived there I do consider myself from Cork. I mean, I was born in Dublin, but I moved when I was six weeks old- hardly long enough to form an allegiance. I mostly grew up in London, but I never considered myself to be from there and if you try to tell me I’m English I’ll want to shoot you.
I currently live in Kildare, but I was 4 and 10 when I moved here so it doesn’t feel like a from, it’s just an I live here now.
Cork’s been the only constant. My parents are from there, it’s where I’e always gone to visit aunts, uncles and my gran. So yeah, if I’m from anywhere (and I’m sort of not) I’m from Cork.

When it comes to GAA I’m fiercely loyal to Cork, my whole family is. I love a day at Croke Park cheering on either the hurling or the football team (although the hurlers haven’t given us much to cheer this year). There’s nothing quite like the feeling of the days where everywhere you go you’re proudly displaying exactly who you’ll be shouting for. the atmosphere of the games is usually fantastic, especially for the bigger matches. On the good teams when you’re walking away victorious the walk to the train station is filled with grinning faces, sharp contrast to the glum opposition. Obviously there are the days when the journey home is filled with comments about wasted ball, stupid wides, how bad the ref was and general comments where everyone goes on as if they know a lot more than they do and as though they could have done better themselves.

There are days, like yesterday, when I’m disappointed in my team, when I think they could have done better. But I’m not one of those people (like my dad) that take off their jersey if their team loses. If Cork lose that doesn’t change the fact that I support them, it just means we’ll try again next year and try to pulverise Kerry in Croke Park like we can in the Munster Championships.

In his post today Tommy talks about pride in being Irish, and if there’s any left. When you see the amount of people cheering for their county at a sport that’s part of Irish heritage, I think it’s clear that, in at least some aspects, we’ve still got plenty of pride.

When it comes to the Sam Maguire and the Liam McCarthy cups. It’s most definitely a matter of pride.

There’s something about my body

Do you ever get those days when your body just doesn’t feel right? Not like, body image or anything. Just like…. somewhere in the connection between brain and arm something went a bit screwy.
Maybe all it takes is a stretch, or a cracking of a knuckle to get everything on the right track again, but for the moment something’s amiss.

I’m not talking about how adults go on about needing to grow into your body either. Just how something that felt so natural yesterday isn’t quite working today.

I don’t know if I’m the only person to ever feel this but today is one of those days and it’s strange.
I think I connect it with hyperactivity a bit. Like, your mind is racing and your body doesn’t feel big enough to contain all that pent up energy (not that I’d ever wish for a bigger body)

Maybe if I got up and went for a run I’d feel much more better (a quote not bad english on my part) but ewww running.
Even if I did feel like a bit of activity I’m way too unfit to manage more than about 30 seconds of running.
I used to swim, loads. I actually learned to swim before I learned to walk. I used to do weekly lessons on a Friday evening but I gave them up when I decided I had better things to be doing with my Fridays. I went back for a while last year when I was doing my gaisce bronze medal but life kept getting in the way and I couldn’t keep it up with any regularity.

Maybe if i was still fir from swimming I wouldn’t have days when my body feels wrong but for the moment it looks like I’m stuck with this oddness.
Maybe it’s nothing to do with activity and I’m just a bit off in the head…? It does seem likely.

Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir

For some reason I’ve always really disliked the word sir.
Because I’m 16 I mainly hear it used in school. It’s not that I have a problem with respecting teachers, I really don’t. It’s just Sir seems so… subservient. So much more so than miss.
It’s not even a Harry Potter like situation. You know in the occlumency lessons when Snape was all like “call me sir at all times” or how Dumbledore’s always reminding Harry that it’s Professor Snape.

It’s not like they demand it or anything it’s just… expected. And like, it’s not wrong to be expected to show your teachers some respect (although I firmly believe they should earn it) but something about the word just bugs me.
I dunno why but there’s more male teacher that spring to mind in the school that I would actually like and get on okay with. It’s not that I hate all female teacher but while I was thinking about what i was trying to say here more guys came to mind.
My chemistry teacher for one. I had him for the last year in TY science and, because it was TY, we did a lot more just talking than actual science. He was one of those few teacher who knows what I’m like to teach, how lazy I am and everything, and still likes me. We had some really fun discussions about the maddest of things while we were in that class. But whenever you’re talking to a teacher, it’s always there in the back of your mind that they are a teacher. Because of that
it’s natural to slip sir in to the conversation every so often. Not as a conscious decision like “oh he’s a teacher, better say sir now” just a switch somewhere that drops it in every so often. Like if you enter a classroom late it’s natural to say “sorry, sir” or to grab a teacher’s attention you’d say sir as well. Maybe it’s because I’m a nice person and I use it so often that the word bugs me… but I have no such issue with miss. Maybe it’s because miss doesn’t sound as good so it doesn’t worm its way into my speech as often?

There’s only one situation I can think of that I was asked to say Miss and I wouldn’t. It was in second year french and we were asked/told to answer the roll with “Ici Madame” (okay it was madame so technically I lied but whatever) The ici part I was fine with. it was a french class after all but I wouldn’t use madame because I’d never say “here miss” in any other subject. I very much doubt the teacher ever noticed my silent rebellion but I did so…

Maybe miss doesn’t seem as bad because there are teachers that would call students Miss/Mr *insert last name here* I believe the only person to call me Miss O’Connell was my PE teacher in the junior cycle and I’m fairly sure that was because, one the rare occasions he realised I wasn’t Aislinn (I’m still not), he still didn’t have a clue what my name was. Extra annoying because he hated me so he actually talked to me/gave out to me a fair bit.

I was talking to Ais and Seamus last night about the whole sir thing and they were saying maybe it’s because Sir is higher than Miss. Like, for equality’s sake maybe we should always use Mr. But that doesn’t sound right. The word sir is associated with knighthood, it’s an honour that has to be earned. To give female teachers similar respect should we use Lady? But then lady is awfully old fashioned and how stupid would it sound anyway. In The Bill they use ma’am… should we try that??? Just doesn’t seem right does it? I could definitely see myself disliking that as much as I dislike sir.

While I’m talking about the word I might as well stick in a story.
When I was in first year i had a maths teacher who was a bit… weird. Perfectly good teacher and everything… and I’m eternally grateful because she’s the person who recommended me for CTYI
but a bit mad. Anyway, whenever she talks about any other teacher she doesn’t use last names. Just sir and miss. So when I was finished a maths test, or the classwork, early… which happened a good bit since I’m very good at maths (and modest!) She’d either hand me the 5th year book or send me to do something for her. When it was the latter she’s hand me a not and say “take this to sir” and that’d be it… It was up to me to figure out who she meant. She almost always meant the metalwork teacher but still… it was a bit unnerving

On the “It’s Professor Snape, Harry”
I’m in the student council and while we’re not allowed discuss specific teacher their names do crop up, as in “Yeah I’ll mention it to ——”. Times like that, or if I’m just talking to my friends, I find it interesting to notice how, while some teachers will always be Mr—– or Miss—– for others the Mister gets dropped, or a nickname is used or whatever.
I dunno if that’s to do with respect or how some surnames just sound stupid used alone or what but I’ve always found it interesting.

*rereads*
This was a hard post to write. Since I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say with it. I don’t actually know why I dislike the word so much I just do. It doesn’t mean I won’t use it or anything, I’ll just complain about it every now and again.
Having thought about it for the last in-or-around 1000 words you’d think I’d have a better idea on why I think what I think but it’s really just an instinctive opinion… some rebellious side of me doesn’t like it or something. But sure… it’s something to write about.
I’d be glad to hear any opinions on the word in comments…
Ah… there’s a reason I don’t normally try conclude my posts, i suck at it.
But this was such a rambly one I needed to finish with something.

I feel bad for teachers’ pens

I walked into Irish class today to see my teacher holding up a red pen. Just your bog standard biro that most shops sell and most people would stick into their pencil case at the beginning of the year and expect it to last them until the following June.

I don’t like the biro style of red pens, I prefer the liquid ink ones so I stock up on them at the beginning of the year. I had a spare biro hanging round in my pencil case last year and I ended up dangling it in a bunsen burner so that now it’s all melty and cool looking.

Anyway today after everyone had walked into class, taken out our books, racked our brains to try and remember if we were meant to have learnt anything for this class etc. The teacher started telling us the sad tale of her new red pen… which was dying due to overuse correcting our homework….

This was followed by a lecture about how we’re fifth years now and we need to put effort into our work and if we drop down that’s it we’re in pass and all that sort of thing. I was pretty pleased because I’d gotten an A, but sort of annoyed at myself for making some stupid mistakes like forgetting that sa adds a “h” to the next word.
I was really glad I’d gotten a good mark though cuz the questions had taken me forever

Got me thinking though. One class had around thirty pupils. teachers have a lot of classes. That means a lot of corrections for them to do.
So yeah- I feel bad for teachers’ pens.

It must be love?

I’ve been thinking about love lately (you might have noticed). In general, if someone my age tells me they’re madly in love my first reaction is to think “yeah right”. Maybe I’m being overly cynical but I can’t help that.
I’m not saying people my age can’t fall in love. Just that the word is completely overused and trivialised by some people.

I don’t know what love is. I mean, I love my family obviously. But the type of thing where people are so in love that if one of them dies the other just can’t go on living… I can’t even contemplate that. I haven’t reached a stage in relationships that I can think about someone and not think that eventually, in a few months or a few years, there’ll no longer be a connection, we’ll be bored of each other or have lost whatever it was we had in common to begin with, or we’ll have an argument over something…. As far as I’m concerned there’s no such thing as an infinite relationship for me in the near future.

My parent’s have been married for twenty five years. I really love them but Jesus, if I spent the last 25 years married to either of them I think I may have killed them by now. Or at least walked out.
My brother got married last February. When I see him and Priti together it frequently makes me pull faces and say gay because they look so couple-y and so ridiculously in love, despite the fact that they see so much of each other. I’m totally happy for them, I think they’re really cute together, but I don’t think I could hack that amount of time in anyone’s company (particularly not my brother’s) and still look so in love.

The longest relationship I’ve ever had was in the region of 7 months. We got on really well and all, but there was no question of it being anything like love and it totally fell apart.
I know a guy who was with a girl for a week before they were proclaiming their undying love for each other. Good for them, but in fairness, he was 14. Love?? I have to say I think not.
Another guy I know got engaged at age 18. Over msn. Let’s just say I wasn’t too surprised when that didn’t go to plan.

There is the whole thing about love at first sight. But if you fall in love with someone the second you see them aren’t you just falling in love with their looks? I totally get how you could click with someone the first time you talk to them, but love? That quickly? That I don’t understand.

One time I was having a conversation with a girl, discussing the shambles of our love (like) lives, and she said something that stuck out to me as a really sensible attitude about love
“you know, I think I love him. But I’m 15 so what do I know?”
(that was the general gist anyway)

Sometimes I think maybe I’m just behind everyone else so I pretend they’re wrong. But then I decide that’s silly. I mean, it’s not like someone tells me they’re in love and I go “Oh no you must be wrong” Just when they’ve known the person for 5 minutes I tend to be a bit skeptical.

I don’t know what love is. I don’t know when I’ll find out. But I’m sure when it comes along I’ll figure it out. Until then???
Being madly in like is occupying my mind plenty.

Protected: A little too not over you

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Neologism

Have you ever tried to talk about something and all the words in the English language don’t seem to be enough to phrase it properly?

Like in English when you have to give your opinion on a poem. even if I have a really strong dislike of it I can’t explain why because it’s just a reaction. Some form of instinct that’s difficult to put into words and not valid as an exam answer.

When I try to explain CTYI to someone I always fail to do it justice because I can’t describe the atmosphere or the feelings it evokes.
Or the guy I like. Because it can’t work with him thinking about him brings this huge, all consuming mix of joy and sadness and pain and yearning and all sorts of things that I think I need to make up a new word to describe it.

When poets do that it’s called a neologism.
When I do it it’s called “Sinéad you failed your English test”

It’s mainly writing in this blog that’s got me trying to put my thoughts into nicely phrased packages and in my five months of experience I’ve formed one solid conclusion.

The English language just isn’t big enough for my thoughts.
That sounds incredibly arrogant but what I mean is that when I try to get all my opinions on a topic into a nice blog post sometimes it’s way harder than i would have expected. Rather than try and improve my ability to phrase my opinions my solution is make English bigger =)

What kind of key do I need to get in?

Locks are fairly straightforward things. You use them for security. So that only you can open your house, or your car or your locker. This week, me and locks don’t get on.

I have a locker in school. I’ve had one since first year. It’s important because it means my bag isn’t back-breakingly heavy. If you want a locker in first year the school provides a lock, which comes with three keys. I often forgot my keys so it was a good thing I had a sister in the school with one of my spares. By the time I reached TY I’d pretty much figured out the whole pick-up-keys-on-way-out routine. There were probably a few days when I forgot my keys but I was in TY, books weren’t a big part of the year and it just meant I had to fit my jacket into my bag for the day.
(my lock is like this only goldy)

Now that I’m in 5th year the locker’s a big help because my books are all fat. I was fortunate to get a locker that’s on the edge of a block and on the top, now I hardly ever have to wait for people to get out of my way.Although I do keep annoying the guy below me who’s way taller than me and keeps getting to his locker while I’m standing in front of it.

Anyway, now that I’m all old and mature I’m used to getting to my locker whenever I need it (morning, break, lunch and after school) and being able to open it. So on Tuesday when I went to my locker at break to get my maths book it was a bit of a shock to see a lock on it that wasn’t mine. I waited around for a while to see if someone came to unlock the mystery lock and when they didn’t I wandered into the assembly hall where there tends to be a few teachers at breaks. I saw the principal (who still seems like the vice principal) and asked him if he could cut a lock for me. he says fine, gets the lock cutty things and tries to break the lock. the new lock is fat and ugly and refuses to break under the pressure of lock cutty things so I go to maths without my maths books for today.

After school it was raining and I really needed a jacket for walking home. Since my jacket was living in my locker I found the caretaker and asked him to try cut the invading lock for me. When he sees what locker number I am he says my books are in the vice principals office because someone had told them it was their locker. I say grand, go there, take the books I need for homework and all that jazz. Then the vice principal comes in, so he checks the system finds out it’s actually my locker (big surprise) and that they messed up by cutting my lock off. He goes to the locker to look at the offending lock and decides it’s fat and will be hard to cut. Says I can use his office as a locker until he sorts it out. Took a few days for them to cut the lock off but I have my locker now. Annoying how I had my key and I still couldn’t get into my locker though.

Today I was walking down the village to buy a french book and would be returning to an empty house. I almost left without my keys but remembered in time which was good because getting locked out would have been stupid. After walking home with with a bloody expensive french book in tow I pulled out my keys, put the porch key in the lock and turned. The key snapped in two. After checking to see if someone had remembered to lock the back door (unfortunately they had) I turned to my neighbours for help. They called a locksmith, fed me, took me to Maynooth to rob my sister’s keys and in general acted very neighbourly altogether which allowed me to get back into my house after about two and a half hours.
Just goes to show though, that sometimes remembering your keys just isn’t enough!

This really isn’t going to help convince my parents that they’re over protective of me…

All you need is love practice

I think the most interesting skill I have is the ability to juggle. You tell someone you can juggle and you’re practically guaranteed a reaction.

I learnt to juggle when I was 14 during the summer after second year, at CTYI 07. It was an activity offered almost daily by Brendan, who is probably my favourite RA of any in my 3 years at CTYI. Because I’m not very good at, well, catching and throwing and anything like that, I wasn’t very good at juggling when I started. It took me two solid hours to manage to throw the three balls and catch them again. It took me two weeks to get any further than that. But by the time I was leaving CTYI I had the basic foundations down, I knew what I was doing I just couldn’t keep it up for any length of time.

When I left I had my own balls (in-your-endo!) and I was determined to improve. For the rest of the summer I practised. I juggled while I was away with orchestra, while I was in Canada, while I was at home. Through countless hours of sheer effort I managed to get to stage where if someone saw me they’d think “Oh, she can juggle” instead of “Oh, she’s trying to juggle”

A lot of people have seen me juggle. Most members of my orchestra, everyone in my family, my friends… plenty of people. Their reactions always amuse me. When I was in 3rd year and my mocks were on, we were waiting around in school between them for hours at a time, so I brought juggling balls to entertain me. Because of the huge amount of people around to see me the reactions were quite diverse. There was the “Woah she can juggle”, the “Can I have a go?” , the “Sinéad, be careful” when I walked into my history teacher, the “Stop it” when someone who was having a go kept throwing the balls (accidentally) into the door of a classroom, the people who just looked at me and even “Hey it’s the juggling girl from CTYI”
People also always tell me I get a really weird look on my face when I juggle. I guess I’m concentrating really hard and because I’m following three balls my eyes look a bit strange. Also I’m almost always biting my lip while I do it.

I’ve been juggling for two years now and I’m very good at your basic three ball cascade. But that’s it. No tricks, no variations. Nothing. I’m just not talented enough to try anything beyond basic throwing and catching without disastrous results. But what I can do I’m damn good at so that’s enough for me.

My juggling balls(whose names are Jimmy) are essential for going to CTYI. I panicked when I couldn’t find them this year the day before I was going. Juggling at CTYI generally isn’t considered very special. So many people can do it so much better than me, that my skills are nothing out of the ordinary. Well that’s the way it should be.

This year wasn’t like that. There were so many people who hadn’t been around when juggling was really popular, who were surprised to see my juggling. It was just strange for people to ask me where i learned to juggle and me being there “I learnt here! Isn’t it obvious?” Also trying to teach the RAs instead of having them teach me wasn’t right at all.

Juggling is one of the only things that I can do that I have no talent for whatsoever. I’m musical and I’m smart (and modest!) but if it involves a ball and any hand eye coordination I’m screwed. I’m actually really shocked that I decided I was gonna learn to do this and when I sucked at it I didn’t actually mind. I kept at it until I got good. That’s really really unusual for me.
Now I love juggling. It makes me feel good to get into the rhythm of catches and throws and to feel like I can do something a lot of people can’t do. Yay juggling!!!

picture from google images

Oh and the title? Something Brendan said.
“John Lennon said “All you need is love.” He was wrong. All you need is practice.”