After many many taunts about my serious monkey phobia I thought I would explain my fear.
I've always been a little freaked out by gorillas- they're huge, hairy, and they eat each other (I'm deadly serious). It then sort of spread to monkeys after watching orangutangs climbing on humans furiously, and then culminated with This. Ever since This I've been positively "sht-myself terrified" of monkeys.
Now I watched the first part of it to make sure it was The Right One so you'd better watch all of it. You cannot make fun of me after looking at This.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyLNaEDMAts
I FLIPPED. AUGH!!!! MONKEYS SCARE THE LIVING FECK OUT OF ME!!!
And like That wasn't freaky enough- someone posted this on my Facebook wall and I almost had a heart attack. My blood ran cold and I seriously stopped breathing for the last minute.
http://images.search.yahoo.com/images/view?p=gelada+baboon&back=http%3A%2F%2Fsearch.yahoo.com%2Fsearch%3Fei%3DUTF-8%26p%3Dgelada%2Bbaboon%26fr%3Dyfp-t-900-s&w=428&h=640&imgurl=farm8.staticflickr.com%2F7029%2F6731379679_32893d8347_z.jpg&size=164KB&name=6731379679_32893d8347_z.jpg&rcurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.flickr.com%2Fphotos%2Fchizzy75%2F6731379679%2F&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.flickr.com%2Fphotos%2Fchizzy75%2F6731379679%2F&type=&no=1&tt=115&oid=8684d8e590c8e84388690d91b065fc39&tit=gelada+baboon+gelada+baboon+running+straight+at+me+thankfully+i+got+...&sigr=11h4bebn7&sigi=11nhl5g4a&sigb=126gedc0c&fr=yfp-t-900-s
Monday, April 15, 2013
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Everyone's Irish on...well, during the whole month...
Over the last few years I've grown sort of used to it, mostly because it happens all of the time; that moment when I open my mouth and say perhaps one word and bring upon myself a torrent of surprise. I mean, who thinks of how they sound every moment of every day? You'd think I was doing something like this:
It's like I'm magical; famous by verb. Why though? Because my little northern Irish accent is different from everyday sounds people hear? Surely I'm not a better or different person simply because I enunciate more and end the end of my sentence on an upswing instead of steady. Why am I such a novelty? We are saying the same words, mostly. We are looking at the same objects, discussing the same subjects. Why does having a non-American voice make me so unique? Billions of people don't sound like Americans but I still often field comments that make me feel out of place, more than a little uncomfortable, and rather alone. I have wondered before if a person wants to be my friend or my accent's friend.
"Oh my GOSH. Your accent is so cute."
"Keep talking! I love you!"
"It's funny because you say ______ instead of ______ like we do. That's adorable."
"I could listen to you read the phone book..."
"Irish accents are so pretty. What do you think of American accents?"
"I can do a great Irish accent, wanna hear?!
"It's like you're from Braveheart..."
"I love Irish accents. You're so lucky to be from Ireland!"
"You're from Ireland? What's it like there??"
"You sound like you're from Harry Potter."
"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Say _______" (that one is probably my least favourite...)
While getting compliments on the way I naturally speak is strange, I usually just shrug it off with a slightly awkward "Heh, heh,...thank you?" (Really, how does one take a compliment for just being a certain way?) and go on my way. Sometimes I'm amused (usually when little kids hear me talk and they get all shy and cute about it or when "speech chameleons" accidentally throw out words in my accent by pure accident haha) but sometimes I'm genuinely puzzled or kind of creeped out by the way people phrase their enjoyment of........well.......me.
For instance, the whole "You're so lucky to be from Ireland! What's it like there?" one rather puzzles me. Every place has it's fantastic pros and it's horrific cons. Pro? I live in a beautiful country- it's mysterious and breathtaking and the culture is friendly, intricate, and vibrant, kinda like the folks who live there and the music they play. Con? There's the whole foreign occupation thing and the war that went on when I was a kid. The oppression that is felt even today. Marching season and the riots. There are murals on many corners and museums and jails that have sordid pasts and unpleasant presents. They are constant reminders of both proud moments and of fearful times simultaneously.
I have always thought it was funny how everyone becomes Irish on St. Patrick's Day (I'm wearing green, see how my nationality changed?), but it's become more than that within the last two years-ish. If I meet someone even in February or April, they'll tell me how Irish they are and how much they love St. Patrick's Day. They'll tell me of their great-great-grandfather who was from Dublin or Cork, they'll tell me how they've been to Ireland (but never went up North), and they'll tell me how green is their favourite colour. Some of them know about "riverdancing", or Celtic Woman, or will know that the Irish economy is wretched right now.
Admittedly I always feel a bit let down by the lack of knowledge of the important things though; have we really been reduced to Michael Flatley, Dublin, and leprechauns with the occasional flock of sheep or guy that looks like this?
I'm not saying that if you don't study the history of Ireland, understand the politics and unrest, or know the names of the Seachtar na Cásca or the 1981 Hunger Strikers you're a wretched person, but if you claim to be Irish, you should know at least a little about the people who've kept stewardship of Ireland before you were alive. You should know how to say more than "kiss my ass" in Irish (Aim high! Go for "My name is _____.") and you should know better than to assume that all Irish people are the same.
I'm not some illiterate and ignorant shepherd's daughter. My father is an avid fisherman, go raibh mile maith agaibh go léir ;)
I'm not from Dublin.
I'm not from Cork (thanks be to God! lol).
The city my family is from is under foreign occupation.
This city has seen war and bloodshed that you won't find in a movie.
Our language was almost extinguished.
Our dance form isn't flailing legs and bobbing heads.
We don't say "Top o' the morning to ya." unless we're mocking someone.
You will not be able to out-drink us but we aren't all drunks.
No one, I repeat, no one, drinks green beer unless they're already under the table.
We don't eat corned beef and cabbage for every meal.
Let's talk about the weird questions too. I've discovered that if you want to be sorely amused by ridiculous misconceptions, be from another country.
"What do you eat in Ireland?" Erm....food? Normal food? Plenty of stew?
"Do you have indoor plumbing?" - It's not the sticks I live in, you know. We don't squat over holes...
"WHOA- is that elvish?!?!" - a boy saw a shirt of mine with Irish written on it...
"Are you speaking Chinese?" - what?!?!
"Do you guys say ____ in Ireland?" In case you haven't noticed, we're actually speaking the same language...
etc., etc., etc., ...
I am constantly amused and exasperated by the questions I'm asked. And often quite confused...
I do love being from Ireland though, and wouldn't trade it for the world. Greece, my other half, is pretty fantastic though as well <3
.
"Where's the leprechaun?"
"Oh my GOSH. Your accent is so cute."
"Keep talking! I love you!"
"It's funny because you say ______ instead of ______ like we do. That's adorable."
"I could listen to you read the phone book..."
"Irish accents are so pretty. What do you think of American accents?"
"I can do a great Irish accent, wanna hear?!
"It's like you're from Braveheart..."
"I love Irish accents. You're so lucky to be from Ireland!"
"You're from Ireland? What's it like there??"
"You sound like you're from Harry Potter."
"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Say _______" (that one is probably my least favourite...)
While getting compliments on the way I naturally speak is strange, I usually just shrug it off with a slightly awkward "Heh, heh,...thank you?" (Really, how does one take a compliment for just being a certain way?) and go on my way. Sometimes I'm amused (usually when little kids hear me talk and they get all shy and cute about it or when "speech chameleons" accidentally throw out words in my accent by pure accident haha) but sometimes I'm genuinely puzzled or kind of creeped out by the way people phrase their enjoyment of........well.......me.
For instance, the whole "You're so lucky to be from Ireland! What's it like there?" one rather puzzles me. Every place has it's fantastic pros and it's horrific cons. Pro? I live in a beautiful country- it's mysterious and breathtaking and the culture is friendly, intricate, and vibrant, kinda like the folks who live there and the music they play. Con? There's the whole foreign occupation thing and the war that went on when I was a kid. The oppression that is felt even today. Marching season and the riots. There are murals on many corners and museums and jails that have sordid pasts and unpleasant presents. They are constant reminders of both proud moments and of fearful times simultaneously.
"Welcome to Sheils Street. Let's talk about revolutionaries. Pearse, Sands. Oh, some dancers, and kids playing hurling..."
I have always thought it was funny how everyone becomes Irish on St. Patrick's Day (I'm wearing green, see how my nationality changed?), but it's become more than that within the last two years-ish. If I meet someone even in February or April, they'll tell me how Irish they are and how much they love St. Patrick's Day. They'll tell me of their great-great-grandfather who was from Dublin or Cork, they'll tell me how they've been to Ireland (but never went up North), and they'll tell me how green is their favourite colour. Some of them know about "riverdancing", or Celtic Woman, or will know that the Irish economy is wretched right now.
Admittedly I always feel a bit let down by the lack of knowledge of the important things though; have we really been reduced to Michael Flatley, Dublin, and leprechauns with the occasional flock of sheep or guy that looks like this?
"Ah, lads! Would you ever look at those gorgeous sheep there! Pardon me while I go pick some praties and dig turf..."
That picture is rather blurry....here:
"Everyone walks around with a smirk and one eyebrow cocked. Of course, you must be ginger-haired with plaid on your body somewhere. Bow-ties and sheep are actually optional.but muck boots and a stick are an obligation."
I'm not saying that if you don't study the history of Ireland, understand the politics and unrest, or know the names of the Seachtar na Cásca or the 1981 Hunger Strikers you're a wretched person, but if you claim to be Irish, you should know at least a little about the people who've kept stewardship of Ireland before you were alive. You should know how to say more than "kiss my ass" in Irish (Aim high! Go for "My name is _____.") and you should know better than to assume that all Irish people are the same.
I'm not some illiterate and ignorant shepherd's daughter. My father is an avid fisherman, go raibh mile maith agaibh go léir ;)
I'm not from Dublin.
I'm not from Cork (thanks be to God! lol).
The city my family is from is under foreign occupation.
This city has seen war and bloodshed that you won't find in a movie.
Our language was almost extinguished.
Our dance form isn't flailing legs and bobbing heads.
We don't say "Top o' the morning to ya." unless we're mocking someone.
You will not be able to out-drink us but we aren't all drunks.
No one, I repeat, no one, drinks green beer unless they're already under the table.
We don't eat corned beef and cabbage for every meal.
Let's talk about the weird questions too. I've discovered that if you want to be sorely amused by ridiculous misconceptions, be from another country.
"What do you eat in Ireland?" Erm....food? Normal food? Plenty of stew?
"Do you have indoor plumbing?" - It's not the sticks I live in, you know. We don't squat over holes...
"WHOA- is that elvish?!?!" - a boy saw a shirt of mine with Irish written on it...
"Are you speaking Chinese?" - what?!?!
"Do you guys say ____ in Ireland?" In case you haven't noticed, we're actually speaking the same language...
etc., etc., etc., ...
I am constantly amused and exasperated by the questions I'm asked. And often quite confused...
I do love being from Ireland though, and wouldn't trade it for the world. Greece, my other half, is pretty fantastic though as well <3
.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Sean McDonagh, Gaeilge, and the Irish language...
Lately our flat has been having some serious struggles....one of my flatmates is driving everyone up the walls. It's exhausting, exasperating, and it's positively ridiculous; for the last week or so my flatmates and I have been deciding what to do with ourselves so that we can get some peace. Things changed a bit when I was having a conversation with a fellow from our town in Ireland.
Sean McDonagh is a fellow in our town who was injured while in the IRA- he sustained a pretty severe traumatic brain injury and he now spends his time blissfully unaware of the trials of life, just making his way around the town and outlying residences. People feed him and give him shelter (he does have his own house but he gets lonely in there and wanders around because he likes to be around people) and sit to talk to him. Because of his innocence, he somehow manages to end up giving great advice. Anyhow, he wandered into one of my best friend's house randomly while Seamus and I were talking about work and so he proceeded to say hello on Skype. Our conversation went something like this :)
Seamus: Oh! Sean's here. Whoa
Sean: (He rather shoved Seamus out of the way haha) Sinead! Ah, it's so grand to see you! You're so far away though. How's America??
Seamus: Sean, you need to say excuse me, remember?
Sean: No, I don't remember. Excuse me. Now how are you?
Sinead: Grand, Sean. How's home?
Sean: Oh just grand so. When are you coming home? I miss you. (He looks awfully forlorn and I always feel bad haha)
Sinead: Not for a while yet, I'm still in classes.
Sean: Ah that's right. Aw. Who will I teach songs to?
Sinead: Teach Seamie! Then he can teach me. I need a new song actually, I have a gig tomorrow and they want a sean nos piece. Americans love that sort of thing.
Sean: You mean it? (He did a bit of a dance and gave a sort of a war woop haha) Now!
Sinead: Well I'm sorry to say that I haven't the time just now, Sean. Perhaps tomorrow haha.
Sean: What could be better than learning a new song? (He was truly puzzled by this haha)
Sinead: Nothing! I just have some grading to do. Seamie was giving me some work that I need to start on as well.
Sean: Alright but you never have any time anymore. (He looks quite downtrodden)
Sinead: Haha, that's what happens when I'm far away in classes and teaching.
Sean: America is going to kill you, you know. Slow down!
Sinead: Ha, sometimes it feels that way certainly. Everything is hustle and bustle and people don't know how to be normal sometimes.
Sean: If you don't have time for new songs, yes it is. Too busy!
Sinead: Haha. What I wouldn't give to just be relaxing.
Sean: Come home then. Now.
Sinead: Can't do, Sean. I've got to be here.
Sean: Well what's new then? In America. (His eyes shine a bit when he says the word America like it's a magical kingdom he wants to visit in the clouds haha)
Sinead: Well not much. My dance students just finished a test. That's what I'm grading. And, truth be told, I'm avoiding one of my flatmates. She's mental.
Sean: Oooh, I know all sorts of mental people. (I winced a bit, not sure if he was talking about himself or other people he met with TBIs in hospital...)
Sinead: Oh Sean, you're not mental.
Sean: Oh! I wasn't talking about me! There's a fellow who gets drunk at Rafferty's and he says the weirdest shite.
Sinead: I'm not sure if that qualifies as mental, Sean haha. No, my flatmate is a hoarder and does nothing around the flat to contribute. She's inconsiderate and she's got no ambition. All she does is make excuses.
Sean: A hoarder?
Sinead: Seamus, show him a picture of hoarding..
Seamus: Just a minute. (Sean leaned in intently, about an inch from Seamie's face haha I could hear clicking and watched as they leaned in a bit closer to look and see which picture was suitable). Okay, this one's pretty good. Look, Sean.
Sean: My God! That's foul! Where does she keep all of her....her... (he can't think of a word)
Sinead: Hoardings.
Sean: Sure. The mountain of shite! (He's in disbelief haha)
Sinead: Hahaha. It's in our parlour.
Sean: My house doesn't look like that.
Sinead: Haha, I'm glad. It's rather embarrassing when people come visiting.
Sean: Ach. (He wrinkled his nose a bit at the thought haha)
Sinead: Yes, ach. Everyone in the flat is upset with her because NO one likes living like that. She has a huge amount of clutter.
Sean: Cutter? Knives?
Sinead: Clutter... it means things that don't have a proper place.
Sean: Ah. You're using too many big words. (He frowned at me a bit)
Sinead: Sorry. I'll be more careful haha
Sean: Good. You know my head doesn't remember the words (This is something interesting about Sean- he refers to his head and his hands as separate entities almost...like he this he has no control over them and they do as they wish haha)
Sinead: Right, I'd forgotten. (It's rather impossible to forget, but as he doesn't particularly like talking about his injury or forgetfulness I figured I'd bite..)
Sean: I know, I forget things all the time.
Sinead: Haha, that you do. Seamus was telling me about your pipes.
Sean: Ah, yeah. They got lost.
Sinead: Did you find them?
Sean: Wouldn't you know I did! I left them at the pub.
Sinead: Haha, good then. Doesn't do to misplace those. You saved a lot of money for those.
Sean: I did?
Sinead: Sure- cousin Eamonn said you saved for several months because you wanted nice ones.
Sean: Dunno why I bought them. I don't know how to play. (He doesn't remember that he was, in fact, and very very skilled player. He carries them with him almost everywhere though, so it's a bit funny). Wasting money... (He looks upset)
Sinead: Well they're found so that's what matters.
Sean: Sure.
Sinead: Good (I smile at him and his face brightens- he never stays upset for long)
Sean: You should be nice to your flatmate (He switches topics rather quickly and you have to make the leap with him haha)
Sinead: We are nice, Sean. Too nice, really. Everyone just makes like there's nothing wrong when in reality, there are a lot of problems. She says she has a hard time being happy and so sometimes we try just not to upset her. It isn't good for her.
Sean: She's sad?
Sinead: So she says. She always gets upset when we try to talk to her...she makes excuses.
Sean: Sometimes I don't like to talk to people.
Sinead: But if I told you something was very, very, very important because I was getting upset and I needed to tell you something, you would listen. Right?
Sean: Right. (He says this firmly, like it's very important now haha)
Sinead: Good man. She has trouble with that though. She gets very upset if we say something that she doesn't like.
Sean: Rafferty doesn't let me pay for drinks. That makes me upset.
Sinead: Rafferty doesn't let you pay for drinks because you play the music for the pub-goers.
Sean: I don't know how to play- my fingers have a go.
Sinead: Sure, Sean. Rafferty likes that. You know how when you help I give you sweeties?
Sean: Yes. (He licks his lips like he can taste the sweets I give him and I laugh and have to compose myself)
Sinead: I do that because you've done something for me and I want to thank you.
Sean: Well he could thank me by taking my feckin money once in a while...(he kind of growled after this statement hahaha)
Sinead: Now, now. Be nice.
Sean: Right, sorry. I didn't mean to be mean. (His face softens...)
Sinead: No matter, no matter.
Sean: But your flatmate doesn't give you anything?
Sinead: Well she doesn't have to. You clean your house because you live there and you don't want to live in filth and damp, right? We have five ladies in our flat and everyone must do their job to help keep things tidy
Sean: Jesus, five?
Sinead: Haha, yes. Five. There could be six, actually but I count as two people.
Sean:I don't know...
Sinead: I pay double rent.
Sean: Oh hahahaha, I get it, I get it. (He grins, happy that he understands an abstract concept haha)
Sinead: Yes. But she doesn't like to help and she likes to complain a lot.
Sean: I complain and you don't hate me.
Sinead: I don't hate her, I just wish she would be positive sometimes. She doesn't ever say happy things and it makes the other girls sad. You don't whine and complain, do you?
Sean: Does it make you sad, Sinead?
Sinead: What, her being annoying? Sometimes. If I have a good day and she is upset or mad or sad then it brings me down and I don't like that. I like to be happy and think happy thoughts and be glad for good days.
Sean: Have a good day todayyyyyy! (He says this in a voice like someone sending their kids off to school haha)
Sinead: Well thank you. It's evening but I'll save that for tomorrow, okay?
Sean: Have a good day tomorrow too.
Sinead: I shall certainly try my very hardest, okay?
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: You are the most positive person, you know that?
Sean: What happened happened...I don't know why, it just did. My head hurts. Seamus, can I have a tablet?
Seamus: Just a moment. (He waves at the webcam to excuse himself and then stands up and walks away. Sean sticks his face what must have been milimeters away as I all I can see is his blue eyes hahaha)
Sinead: Whoa...back up a bit haha
Sean: Oh. too close? Well your flatmate needs to be positive. She needs to work hard so she can get better, okay?
Sinead: She doesn't like to work hard, she just wants to lay down and do nothing.
Sean: Isn't that why God invented week-ends?
Sinead: Hahahahahaha, I imagine so.
Sean: Haha, that was clever.
Sinead: It was (I give him a winning smile and he sticks his face up close to the webcam again haha). Very clever indeed.
Sean: You're funny, Sinead. You should tell your flatmate that youre upset with her.
Sinead: We are going to very soon...I don't think we can hold out much longer.
Sean: Tomas MacDonagh.
Sinead: What?
Sean: I think he said that in the GPO.
Sinead: What?
Sean: The GPO. To Pearse. You like Pearse. Am I making you happy? (He looks at me so hopefully hahaha)
Sinead: Haha, yes. You're right, I do like Pearse. I like Pearse a lot. A revolutionary if there ever was one.
Sean: You should go for a walk when you get upset with her. (Switch topics haha)
Sinead: It's awfully cold outside and not exactly suitable for walking around.
Sean: Walk inside?
Sinead: Nowhere to do that in the flat.
Sean: What about in your parlour?
Sinead: She sleeps on the sofa.
Sean: She's maddening and I'm not even there!
Sinead: Hahahaha, yes.
Sean: But I like being cheery and smiling so I'm not going to get mad.
Sinead: I wish I had your optimism haha
Sean: My head hurts. It hurts a lot.
Sinead: Aw. Where's Seamie with your tablet?
Sean: I don't know. It hurts though.
Sinead: I know it does. He'll be rummaging through the cupboards for something for you.
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: I wish I could give her a bottle of your happiness.
Sean: I wish so too. She shouldn't be sad all the time. You know they have tablets for that, don't you?
Sinead: Haha, yes I do. Supposedly she takes them. but they don't seem to be working.
Sean: When this bit (that's how he refers to his TBI) happened I was sad. My head hurt something awful. Like I'd had strong drink! (I don't think Sean has ever been drunk in his whole life haha)
Sinead: But how do you get happy? Do you take tablets?
Sean: NO! I can be happy by myself. I don't need more tablets. I take some when my head hurts but nothing else in the day.
Sinead: Okay. If you could tell her to get happy, how would you tell her?
Sean: I'd tell her that she should see a doctor and that she shouldn't whine all the time because people hate whining other people and she needs to be happier because being sad all the time is stupid and annoying. I don't like being sad. Who the feck likes being sad?
Sinead: A very good point. Very wise. I don't like being sad. I think she likes it because people give her lots of attention and help and they feel sorry for her.
Sean: I hate when people feel sorry for me. People treat me like I'm stupid but I'm not. I'm just not good at remembering.
Sinead: Pity doesn't help you, does it?
Sean: Yes it does.
Sinead: How, Sean? How does it help you?
Sean: It makes me feel like I need to do things so that people won't do it anymore.
Seamus: Here you go, Sean. Use water, this one tastes bad if you keep it on your tongue too long. (Sean gulps it down as fast as he possibly can haha)
Sean: Ach, nasty.
Sinead: I know, taking tablets is gross.
Sean: Yep. Gross. I'm going walking. You be nice, now.
Sinead: Haha I will be. I'll be calm when I we talk.
Sean: Tell her to quit being annoying and to help you. You're so busy you need a lot of help.
Sinead: Where is your coat, Sean?
Sean: Coat?
Sinead: Your gansy.
Sean: I didn't wear one.
Sinead: Seamie, lend him one, will you? He's going to catch his death out there.
Sean: No, no, no! I'm grand, I'm grand, I'm grand!
Seamus: He says he's grand.
Sinead: Well go straight home, Sean. It's raining hard outside. (I see him stick his head out the window and watch him shake his long wavy hair around like a dog). Good Lord hahaha
Sean: I'm going walking! Walking makes everything better, Sinead.
Sinead: By Seanie. Be careful and don't get sick.
Sean: I won't, I won't!
Seamus: You can't tell that man anything haha
Sinead: Amen to that.
Seamus: Sinead, don't kill your flatmate.
Sinead: Not that I'm not tempted sometimes...
Seamus: Seriously...
Sinead: I know that haha Who would Sean teach songs to?
I need to be more like Sean. Everyone needs to be more like Sean haha
Sean McDonagh is a fellow in our town who was injured while in the IRA- he sustained a pretty severe traumatic brain injury and he now spends his time blissfully unaware of the trials of life, just making his way around the town and outlying residences. People feed him and give him shelter (he does have his own house but he gets lonely in there and wanders around because he likes to be around people) and sit to talk to him. Because of his innocence, he somehow manages to end up giving great advice. Anyhow, he wandered into one of my best friend's house randomly while Seamus and I were talking about work and so he proceeded to say hello on Skype. Our conversation went something like this :)
Seamus: Oh! Sean's here. Whoa
Sean: (He rather shoved Seamus out of the way haha) Sinead! Ah, it's so grand to see you! You're so far away though. How's America??
Seamus: Sean, you need to say excuse me, remember?
Sean: No, I don't remember. Excuse me. Now how are you?
Sinead: Grand, Sean. How's home?
Sean: Oh just grand so. When are you coming home? I miss you. (He looks awfully forlorn and I always feel bad haha)
Sinead: Not for a while yet, I'm still in classes.
Sean: Ah that's right. Aw. Who will I teach songs to?
Sinead: Teach Seamie! Then he can teach me. I need a new song actually, I have a gig tomorrow and they want a sean nos piece. Americans love that sort of thing.
Sean: You mean it? (He did a bit of a dance and gave a sort of a war woop haha) Now!
Sinead: Well I'm sorry to say that I haven't the time just now, Sean. Perhaps tomorrow haha.
Sean: What could be better than learning a new song? (He was truly puzzled by this haha)
Sinead: Nothing! I just have some grading to do. Seamie was giving me some work that I need to start on as well.
Sean: Alright but you never have any time anymore. (He looks quite downtrodden)
Sinead: Haha, that's what happens when I'm far away in classes and teaching.
Sean: America is going to kill you, you know. Slow down!
Sinead: Ha, sometimes it feels that way certainly. Everything is hustle and bustle and people don't know how to be normal sometimes.
Sean: If you don't have time for new songs, yes it is. Too busy!
Sinead: Haha. What I wouldn't give to just be relaxing.
Sean: Come home then. Now.
Sinead: Can't do, Sean. I've got to be here.
Sean: Well what's new then? In America. (His eyes shine a bit when he says the word America like it's a magical kingdom he wants to visit in the clouds haha)
Sinead: Well not much. My dance students just finished a test. That's what I'm grading. And, truth be told, I'm avoiding one of my flatmates. She's mental.
Sean: Oooh, I know all sorts of mental people. (I winced a bit, not sure if he was talking about himself or other people he met with TBIs in hospital...)
Sinead: Oh Sean, you're not mental.
Sean: Oh! I wasn't talking about me! There's a fellow who gets drunk at Rafferty's and he says the weirdest shite.
Sinead: I'm not sure if that qualifies as mental, Sean haha. No, my flatmate is a hoarder and does nothing around the flat to contribute. She's inconsiderate and she's got no ambition. All she does is make excuses.
Sean: A hoarder?
Sinead: Seamus, show him a picture of hoarding..
Seamus: Just a minute. (Sean leaned in intently, about an inch from Seamie's face haha I could hear clicking and watched as they leaned in a bit closer to look and see which picture was suitable). Okay, this one's pretty good. Look, Sean.
Sean: My God! That's foul! Where does she keep all of her....her... (he can't think of a word)
Sinead: Hoardings.
Sean: Sure. The mountain of shite! (He's in disbelief haha)
Sinead: Hahaha. It's in our parlour.
Sean: My house doesn't look like that.
Sinead: Haha, I'm glad. It's rather embarrassing when people come visiting.
Sean: Ach. (He wrinkled his nose a bit at the thought haha)
Sinead: Yes, ach. Everyone in the flat is upset with her because NO one likes living like that. She has a huge amount of clutter.
Sean: Cutter? Knives?
Sinead: Clutter... it means things that don't have a proper place.
Sean: Ah. You're using too many big words. (He frowned at me a bit)
Sinead: Sorry. I'll be more careful haha
Sean: Good. You know my head doesn't remember the words (This is something interesting about Sean- he refers to his head and his hands as separate entities almost...like he this he has no control over them and they do as they wish haha)
Sinead: Right, I'd forgotten. (It's rather impossible to forget, but as he doesn't particularly like talking about his injury or forgetfulness I figured I'd bite..)
Sean: I know, I forget things all the time.
Sinead: Haha, that you do. Seamus was telling me about your pipes.
Sean: Ah, yeah. They got lost.
Sinead: Did you find them?
Sean: Wouldn't you know I did! I left them at the pub.
Sinead: Haha, good then. Doesn't do to misplace those. You saved a lot of money for those.
Sean: I did?
Sinead: Sure- cousin Eamonn said you saved for several months because you wanted nice ones.
Sean: Dunno why I bought them. I don't know how to play. (He doesn't remember that he was, in fact, and very very skilled player. He carries them with him almost everywhere though, so it's a bit funny). Wasting money... (He looks upset)
Sinead: Well they're found so that's what matters.
Sean: Sure.
Sinead: Good (I smile at him and his face brightens- he never stays upset for long)
Sean: You should be nice to your flatmate (He switches topics rather quickly and you have to make the leap with him haha)
Sinead: We are nice, Sean. Too nice, really. Everyone just makes like there's nothing wrong when in reality, there are a lot of problems. She says she has a hard time being happy and so sometimes we try just not to upset her. It isn't good for her.
Sean: She's sad?
Sinead: So she says. She always gets upset when we try to talk to her...she makes excuses.
Sean: Sometimes I don't like to talk to people.
Sinead: But if I told you something was very, very, very important because I was getting upset and I needed to tell you something, you would listen. Right?
Sean: Right. (He says this firmly, like it's very important now haha)
Sinead: Good man. She has trouble with that though. She gets very upset if we say something that she doesn't like.
Sean: Rafferty doesn't let me pay for drinks. That makes me upset.
Sinead: Rafferty doesn't let you pay for drinks because you play the music for the pub-goers.
Sean: I don't know how to play- my fingers have a go.
Sinead: Sure, Sean. Rafferty likes that. You know how when you help I give you sweeties?
Sean: Yes. (He licks his lips like he can taste the sweets I give him and I laugh and have to compose myself)
Sinead: I do that because you've done something for me and I want to thank you.
Sean: Well he could thank me by taking my feckin money once in a while...(he kind of growled after this statement hahaha)
Sinead: Now, now. Be nice.
Sean: Right, sorry. I didn't mean to be mean. (His face softens...)
Sinead: No matter, no matter.
Sean: But your flatmate doesn't give you anything?
Sinead: Well she doesn't have to. You clean your house because you live there and you don't want to live in filth and damp, right? We have five ladies in our flat and everyone must do their job to help keep things tidy
Sean: Jesus, five?
Sinead: Haha, yes. Five. There could be six, actually but I count as two people.
Sean:I don't know...
Sinead: I pay double rent.
Sean: Oh hahahaha, I get it, I get it. (He grins, happy that he understands an abstract concept haha)
Sinead: Yes. But she doesn't like to help and she likes to complain a lot.
Sean: I complain and you don't hate me.
Sinead: I don't hate her, I just wish she would be positive sometimes. She doesn't ever say happy things and it makes the other girls sad. You don't whine and complain, do you?
Sean: Does it make you sad, Sinead?
Sinead: What, her being annoying? Sometimes. If I have a good day and she is upset or mad or sad then it brings me down and I don't like that. I like to be happy and think happy thoughts and be glad for good days.
Sean: Have a good day todayyyyyy! (He says this in a voice like someone sending their kids off to school haha)
Sinead: Well thank you. It's evening but I'll save that for tomorrow, okay?
Sean: Have a good day tomorrow too.
Sinead: I shall certainly try my very hardest, okay?
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: You are the most positive person, you know that?
Sean: What happened happened...I don't know why, it just did. My head hurts. Seamus, can I have a tablet?
Seamus: Just a moment. (He waves at the webcam to excuse himself and then stands up and walks away. Sean sticks his face what must have been milimeters away as I all I can see is his blue eyes hahaha)
Sinead: Whoa...back up a bit haha
Sean: Oh. too close? Well your flatmate needs to be positive. She needs to work hard so she can get better, okay?
Sinead: She doesn't like to work hard, she just wants to lay down and do nothing.
Sean: Isn't that why God invented week-ends?
Sinead: Hahahahahaha, I imagine so.
Sean: Haha, that was clever.
Sinead: It was (I give him a winning smile and he sticks his face up close to the webcam again haha). Very clever indeed.
Sean: You're funny, Sinead. You should tell your flatmate that youre upset with her.
Sinead: We are going to very soon...I don't think we can hold out much longer.
Sean: Tomas MacDonagh.
Sinead: What?
Sean: I think he said that in the GPO.
Sinead: What?
Sean: The GPO. To Pearse. You like Pearse. Am I making you happy? (He looks at me so hopefully hahaha)
Sinead: Haha, yes. You're right, I do like Pearse. I like Pearse a lot. A revolutionary if there ever was one.
Sean: You should go for a walk when you get upset with her. (Switch topics haha)
Sinead: It's awfully cold outside and not exactly suitable for walking around.
Sean: Walk inside?
Sinead: Nowhere to do that in the flat.
Sean: What about in your parlour?
Sinead: She sleeps on the sofa.
Sean: She's maddening and I'm not even there!
Sinead: Hahahaha, yes.
Sean: But I like being cheery and smiling so I'm not going to get mad.
Sinead: I wish I had your optimism haha
Sean: My head hurts. It hurts a lot.
Sinead: Aw. Where's Seamie with your tablet?
Sean: I don't know. It hurts though.
Sinead: I know it does. He'll be rummaging through the cupboards for something for you.
Sean: Yes.
Sinead: I wish I could give her a bottle of your happiness.
Sean: I wish so too. She shouldn't be sad all the time. You know they have tablets for that, don't you?
Sinead: Haha, yes I do. Supposedly she takes them. but they don't seem to be working.
Sean: When this bit (that's how he refers to his TBI) happened I was sad. My head hurt something awful. Like I'd had strong drink! (I don't think Sean has ever been drunk in his whole life haha)
Sinead: But how do you get happy? Do you take tablets?
Sean: NO! I can be happy by myself. I don't need more tablets. I take some when my head hurts but nothing else in the day.
Sinead: Okay. If you could tell her to get happy, how would you tell her?
Sean: I'd tell her that she should see a doctor and that she shouldn't whine all the time because people hate whining other people and she needs to be happier because being sad all the time is stupid and annoying. I don't like being sad. Who the feck likes being sad?
Sinead: A very good point. Very wise. I don't like being sad. I think she likes it because people give her lots of attention and help and they feel sorry for her.
Sean: I hate when people feel sorry for me. People treat me like I'm stupid but I'm not. I'm just not good at remembering.
Sinead: Pity doesn't help you, does it?
Sean: Yes it does.
Sinead: How, Sean? How does it help you?
Sean: It makes me feel like I need to do things so that people won't do it anymore.
Seamus: Here you go, Sean. Use water, this one tastes bad if you keep it on your tongue too long. (Sean gulps it down as fast as he possibly can haha)
Sean: Ach, nasty.
Sinead: I know, taking tablets is gross.
Sean: Yep. Gross. I'm going walking. You be nice, now.
Sinead: Haha I will be. I'll be calm when I we talk.
Sean: Tell her to quit being annoying and to help you. You're so busy you need a lot of help.
Sinead: Where is your coat, Sean?
Sean: Coat?
Sinead: Your gansy.
Sean: I didn't wear one.
Sinead: Seamie, lend him one, will you? He's going to catch his death out there.
Sean: No, no, no! I'm grand, I'm grand, I'm grand!
Seamus: He says he's grand.
Sinead: Well go straight home, Sean. It's raining hard outside. (I see him stick his head out the window and watch him shake his long wavy hair around like a dog). Good Lord hahaha
Sean: I'm going walking! Walking makes everything better, Sinead.
Sinead: By Seanie. Be careful and don't get sick.
Sean: I won't, I won't!
Seamus: You can't tell that man anything haha
Sinead: Amen to that.
Seamus: Sinead, don't kill your flatmate.
Sinead: Not that I'm not tempted sometimes...
Seamus: Seriously...
Sinead: I know that haha Who would Sean teach songs to?
I need to be more like Sean. Everyone needs to be more like Sean haha
Thursday, February 28, 2013
....Writings....
People have asked me over the year to post more of my poems and short stories and, as I was reading over them today, I'm willing to oblige.
Countless Names the Mosses Mar
Countless names the mosses mar,
The green-grey stones are silent,
Tilted by the roots of blackthorn trees
Unearthly mist about the land.
The night is dark, so black,
Dew collects on the leaves,
And there, a young man treads.
His feet make no sound.
A single candle floats before him,
The green grass sinks beneath his feet,
The earth yields a smell all its own,
Wild, ancient, fed by the tears
On his cold white cheeks.
He has found her gravestone,
Lies beside it, taking it in his arms,
As much of it as he can surround himself,
Dreams his lover in its stead.
The smooth marble edge, the softest pillow,
Beneath, wet moss- a cool blanket,
Reminding him of when they spent their nights
Lost amid the blackthorn trees and gorse…
The moss cupped them from below,
The imprint of their bodies stayed,
Moss-shadows, side-by-side,
As they left by morning, early.
Rain falls from darkness above,
Droplets drunk by thirsty ground.
He imagines each a kiss,
They cover him, drown him.
Two bowls and whiskey,
Taken from linen pockets,
He sets them at her head and feet,
"Drink the uisce
bheatha
And live above with me once more?"
He is stretched on her grave.
Second steps are heard,
He does not lift his head,
A priest in cassock glides.
His candle stays lit, a miracle,
The flame burns,
As same, the sadness in the lad’s heart.
The priest kneels beside him,
Puts his hands on his shoulder, embraces him.
Understands, but urges him to go home,
"Live with the living,
Let the dead lie."
The priest tries to lift him gently,
To pull him off the gravestone like a wayward slug,
Gravestone's grip tightens, fingers turning white with effort.
He falls away, limp,
Clutching his coat tightly
around him.
A cloak of sadness
Which he cannot shed
He does not know
How to live among the living
Seeking peace, his love now dead.
The priests of the house,
The caretakers,
Looked out from their window,
At the tiny dancing lights.
“He’s there every night.”
Ar Eirinn, A Stor, A
Cuisle Mo Chroí
(Ah Ireland,
My Most Beloved, You, the Pulse of My Heart)
The fiddle bean sidhe ceases its cheery scree. Feet
cease to leap.
The bodhran heartbeat ceases to throb.
Smiling faces turn to
questioning eyebrows, fearful eyes beneath them.
Those bright eyes of sons and
daughters dim
As their eyes are pushed, in
gorse hexagons, below the soil;
Thrown under peat, fed to the
dark and hungry bogs.
Fog sits over this queer
green land.
The wind shakes the barley.
A merry people, desires of
freedom, darkness; and joy…
Children with endless
bright-eyed questions;
Silenced.
Our language, strange and
ancient,
Scratched in stones with
sticks; straight lines.
The stones, now silent, watch
us; observe us.
What will we stand there for?
We stand by our houses.
The strangers tear and trip, rip
the thatch. Blood seeps like the well water, like the fresh cold stream…
A new stream now, fresh and
thick,
Warm rivets, colour of the
berry,
First tree in the green
woods, a copse of holly.
The stones support us, cry
out to us, encourage us.
Stand and speak our ancient
tongue! Take up arms and fight!
Brave the Chill Mhaighneann Gaol, brave sons!
Splash our
blood! Feed our stones!; even in their Stonebreaker’s Yard.
Sweetened by the rain of green
and cold, as the world is slipping…..
The peat and moss and stones sing
Teidhir Abhaile Riu; out…..
We’ve come to show our
strange loyal affliction. of…..
We accept that breath, the
final bullet, ropes round our wrists. …. focus.
Final words, ‘For love of Ireland.’
Sand Dream
The sand, once warm, was cold beneath my feet.
Toes grew numb amid the mud,
The wind was blustery and sharp,
Whipping my dark curls about my shoulders.
With a sudden slam,
A wall of water rushed in.
A sudden trickle from my feet to my knees,
A wave from my knees to my waist.
I was alone beneath the sand cliffs
Suddenly my feet grew heavy and I could not run,
The thin white shift I wore flapped round my arms and
shoulders
I was beneath a dreary sky.
I tried to cry out, voice caught in my throat.
Hoping that those on the ledges above would hear my cries,
See me stuck amid the water,
And come to my aid.
The salt water began to sting,
The spray hit my face, seeped down my cheeks.
The water flowed by like a river,
Myself, I was like a tree, rooted to the spot.
The sea, it called to me,
The waves that crashed over my shoulders
Were like beckoning hands
Outstretched arms.
I awoke to a cold breeze from through my window,
My face, wet.
Glancing at the dawn sky,
I realized it was clear.
Salty tears streaked down my face,
The human flood.
Whether they appeared from fear or longing,
I suppose I shall never know.
The Lightning Storm
To say the world hummed is not entirely accurate;
It shimmered too;
I have caused my own mirage, with my own electricity.
The lovely spots hung before me jumped and danced,
The air behind them smelled thick,
White acrid smoke hung in the distance,
Like bitter-tasting fog.
Blood sang in every vein,
Wind rushed and shrieked in my ears.
She would have a fit.I am not myself.
Shouts rang out from the new darkness,
Like words said through an electric fan,
Then silence.
I was falling, falling asleep.
I am not falling asleep.
My small spark of fear,
A catalyst was igniting, unknowingly
The Lightning Storm.
I would never be free, what with my faulty wiring,
A child excited, stiff then shaking, shrieking in delight.
I shake.
I shriek.
I growl too.
Preposterous, naughty, vicious brain!
How can you relinquish control like this? In public?!
Be trained once more;
That old dog learning tricks he never knew.
“It’s like she’s on the nod.”
“That is impossible, you have to be on drugs to be on the
nod.”
“Well she swallows drugs every morning.”
“That’s to stop these things, not start them.”
“If she takes drugs, why does she still have them?”
“She’s been on the ground an awfully long time…”
I could feel my face, wet,
Tears, salt, spittle, blood.
Sweaty brow.
Cool hands brush my hair away.
Voices whisper and shush both me and their neighbors.
Hands keep me on the ground against my will.
But I am too tired to fight.
I fairly fly through the darkness.
I will never remember.
My head aches with the pain of one-thousand bullets.
Codladh samh agus ni cuimhnigh i gconai
Sleep well and forget.
The body electric ceases all of its misfirings.
I finally sleep.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Just call me Spirit-Crusher...
. I have some interesting stories to share with you though, and one of them involves the moniker "Spirit-Crusher." Are you excited?
After my last blog post about "chilluns" I've made conscious efforts to rekindle my child-centered affections. I really do love kids. They're cute, I can play cute little games with them, I don't have to change them if I don't want to, and most of the time they say absolutely hilarious things. HILARIOUS things. I went to visit the sister of a very good friend of mine/ her three kids (who are all under the age of 7 and are the most well-behaved, precious, adorable little humans I've ever watched and played with) and pretty much every time one of them opened their mouth they made a side-stitching comment that left my jaw aching from smiling so hard :)
When I see pictures of toddlers/ relatively-children, I often get a little smile and think "Awwwww!" :) I feel like I know the children of a bunch of girls I lived with my freshman year even though I have never met their kids and I love that. :) They're great parents, the majority of them. There are a few though that need some lessons on etiquette and appropriate postings. Here begins the sad, sad, sad story.....
I had to delete three friends over the weekend for posting what I definitely considered to be inappropriate pictures of their children. It made me sad; both for their children and for these girls.
I think we all might recall a little "naked time" as a few of these mothers put it. I know I can remember how fun it was to roam around clothing-less after a bath as a very small child- I did it plenty of times and I remember giggling like a lunatic while running around with a towel hovering over my head like a magic carpet. I probably shrieked at the top of my lungs, did some sort of "kiddie naked dance", babbled about whatever in any number of languages, and finished off by diving into a warm fluffy towel straight from the clothes dryer. (my mother was so good to me...)
The only difference between then and now is the fact that my mother never posted pictures of these events in a social media setting. Any pictures of Post-bath Naked Me are stored in a box full of Polaroid film photos (yes, the kind you had to shake in order to get them to develop) and they can be accessed at leisure by people I actually wouldn't be too miffed it they saw Naked Me.
I deleted these friends because they didn't have discretion. In my mind, taking pictures of those who don't have the ability to either give or deny permission to take or post a picture of them naked is completely out of bounds. The elderly and young children fit into this category, along with completely obliterated college students or Spring Break-ers too drunk to notice that someone has a camera pointed at them after they've stripped off.
You wouldn't take a picture of your mother nude, right?! (If you said "Yes I would" to this, you need some serious counseling and perhaps a good brain bleaching...) You wouldn't take a picture of your grandmother nude, right?! (Double if you answered this one "Yes I would"...) You wouldn't post a picture of a younger sibling nude, right?! (Triple, you sicko-creepers.....)
Maybe it's something about the area I'm in right now (it's literally deemed Baby Capitol of the World) but people have no boundaries when it comes to children (I'll explain this phenomenon in my "Spirit-Crusher" story in just one minute). I haven't ever met the children of these three mothers, yet I've been forced to repeatedly view their children's respective genitalia- it's pretty much "surprise paedo-porn" on your newsfeed ("WHOA- hello! I didn't ask to see that!"). I reported the mothers before I deleted them because 1) I was horrified that someone would ever do this as it's repulsive and totally out of line, 2) If someone was a total freak and liked looking at little children naked they absolutely could (these pictures were public not "friends only", 3) I felt like a pervert. I took a shower and tried to expunge those images out of my head but they wouldn't really disappear, which left me feeling dirty, disconcerted, and disgusted.My brain was branded with baby penises. Awkward.
People here have some interesting ways of (dealing?) interacting with their kids as well. The most popular is the zone-out ("My child is screaming blue-fecking-murder about something; this has been happening all day so I am choosing to just ignore him"). The second is the brush-off, which leads us to my "Spirit-Crusher" story.
Spirit. Crusher. (Soul Eater? Dementor? 300/Braveheart Combo?) Raaaaah! It sounds like a name for a pit-bull or some freakish carnival ride that has people plummeting to their deaths under Niagara Falls, right? Along with the "grrrawr!" factor that comes with the moniker, it apparently describes a personal character trait of mine.
We've all been through the scenario where we meet a weird guy/girl and think, "It doesn't, no, it can't get any weirder than that person. It just isn't possible.", then the next day/week/month someone manages to outdo them, giving you an "Okay, I didn't think that was possible for someone to be even more odd...whoa." moment where your mind was completely blown? Well, I had one of those, except it was a "I just met a parent/child duo even stranger/worse than the last one I wrote about" moment. This seems to happen frequently and (gladly) true to Newton's Law, this reaction was met with an equal and opposite reaction of adorable little-kid-edness that will warm your heart once I'm finished describing my cold one.
This nickname was not bestowed upon me by a newspaper for single-handedly managing to take down a gang boss or a coke dealer nor by the city mayor or prime minister for saving the lives of three old ladies after rescuing them from separate burning buildings. No, it came about in an entirely new and....unique...way. Essentially, I received this dub by a woman at the regional hospital where I went for a brainbox appointment (you know, just checkin' out what's up inside my skull again...).
I went to the hospital for my appointment and, since I got there about 20 minutes early (they like to triple check insurance info there...), I was semi-snoozing in the waiting room. When I closed my eyes in hopes of getting rid of what was one of the worst headaches ever, the waiting room was empty, save for myself and the secretary behind her desk. I tilted my head back against the wall, seeking any sort of relief for the ice-pick pressure and after a few moments I was able to tune into the tick of the clock, the clack of the secretary's keys, and the sound of her foot tapping. I decided to make it even more tranquil so I put my earbuds in and I closed my eyes; I had about 15 minutes until my appointment and I was focusing on some relaxation techniques I'd learned during my time at Stanford. I felt as though my headache might actually be getting better until I unexpectedly felt a hand in very close proximity to a very...."sensitive"...area of my body. I came screaming out of my tenuous reverie to find a small child patting my....let's just say "upper leg".
"Whoa..."
Skip to 0:14 for my precise reaction. Except for "dog"...put in the word "kid".
I looked around for a mother to whom I could gasp, "Huh?? What?!" at but saw no one. Not at the desk, not getting a magazine, and not at the glugging water pitcher with those flimpsy cone-shaped paper cups. I was at a loss. This random little toddler was standing next to my legs, patting me (which I put an end to by awkwardly pulling my satchel into my lap, becoming incredibly stiff and confused), and looking at me.
The little girl was probably an early two years old (along with being tenuous around children comes the inability to properly estimate age...) and she started to climb on me. Patting my....leg....and then climbing on me. I'm not a touchy-touchy-feely-feely person so I was already incredibly uncomfortable.
The only thing that would come out of my mouth was, "Eeeeeuuurrrrgh? Ummmmm.....uhhh....haaaah. Rrrr?"
I just...I was speechless haha. I had no idea what to do beside gently kind of freak out. I am so hesitant around random children it isn't even funny.
I stood up and walked over to grab a mint from the secretary's desk but all this did was make the girl's eyes see "CANDY!" I didn't want to give her one because kids are allergic to all sorts of weird stuff as of late and I didn't want her to choke and die and then get myself thrown in jail for attempting to appease the kid. This mint-jaunt caused a temper tantrum like none. other.
I put my earbuds back in (noise canceling technology rocks my world...) I leaned back in my seat again, put my satchel back in my lap and attempted to tune out the now ridiculously voluminous shrieks of the small angry toddler who was back at my leg poking me for candy. I wanted to yell but I thought, "It's a little kid. And despite your likely-seizure-related headache, you can't just scream at a child for being annoying, especially in a neurology clinic- and you can't shout because other people probably have headaches too, they're just lucky and are enclosed in rooms where they can't be hunted down by random small candy-desiring humans."
So there I was, attempting to focus on my awful headache and what I was going to tell my doctor when the little girl started climbing on me. She was grabbing my trousers and standing on my feet and I refused to open my eyes for fear or throwing up because of my light-sensitivity (which was growing worse with every scream from this kid). It stopped for a moment and I had just relaxed my shoulders in relief when I felt small hands grabbing at my shirt from the left side, making me jump. The kid was grabbing at my glasses, plucking my earbuds none-so-gently from my ears, poking me, and literally climbing on me. I plucked her off, physically reoriented her to face away from me, and "shooed" her a bit. Apparently her mum had come back in and, when I gave an almighty groan of "WTF?!?"-ness as I pushed her forward gently, the mum goes, "You could at least say hi- thanks for crushing my child's spirit. She was just being friendly. You should be ashamed for being so rude. Come here Silla. Never you mind her, she's just a spirit crusher."
I stared at her, thought for a moment and said, "Using baby talk to make a point is pathetic. Beside, it's 7AM. I am about to have a seizure and I have the mother of all headaches. I go in to see my neurolgist in a few minutes and I was attempting to think of something to say to him when you decided to leave your child alone with me. I am not a babysitter, I'm not a TV, I'm not any sort of entertainment. I do not have any sort of obligation to your child and I have no desire to have any sort of verbal interaction with a child that is carrying on in the incredible manner your child is managing right now. And as for "spirit crusher" you're being absolutely ludicrous. You child will never remember me. You're just bitter for God knows what reason and you need to be quiet before I say some really choice things. You're an inconsiderate and irresponsible slouch for leaving your child to a random stranger. Like I said, I'm no one's babysitter. And even if I had wanted to, your child was all over me and was screaming so loud that I couldn't possibly manage legitimate words. Oh, and your daughter wants candy. "
Needless to say, seizures put me in a rather black mood.....
After my last blog post about "chilluns" I've made conscious efforts to rekindle my child-centered affections. I really do love kids. They're cute, I can play cute little games with them, I don't have to change them if I don't want to, and most of the time they say absolutely hilarious things. HILARIOUS things. I went to visit the sister of a very good friend of mine/ her three kids (who are all under the age of 7 and are the most well-behaved, precious, adorable little humans I've ever watched and played with) and pretty much every time one of them opened their mouth they made a side-stitching comment that left my jaw aching from smiling so hard :)
When I see pictures of toddlers/ relatively-children, I often get a little smile and think "Awwwww!" :) I feel like I know the children of a bunch of girls I lived with my freshman year even though I have never met their kids and I love that. :) They're great parents, the majority of them. There are a few though that need some lessons on etiquette and appropriate postings. Here begins the sad, sad, sad story.....
I had to delete three friends over the weekend for posting what I definitely considered to be inappropriate pictures of their children. It made me sad; both for their children and for these girls.
I think we all might recall a little "naked time" as a few of these mothers put it. I know I can remember how fun it was to roam around clothing-less after a bath as a very small child- I did it plenty of times and I remember giggling like a lunatic while running around with a towel hovering over my head like a magic carpet. I probably shrieked at the top of my lungs, did some sort of "kiddie naked dance", babbled about whatever in any number of languages, and finished off by diving into a warm fluffy towel straight from the clothes dryer. (my mother was so good to me...)
The only difference between then and now is the fact that my mother never posted pictures of these events in a social media setting. Any pictures of Post-bath Naked Me are stored in a box full of Polaroid film photos (yes, the kind you had to shake in order to get them to develop) and they can be accessed at leisure by people I actually wouldn't be too miffed it they saw Naked Me.
I deleted these friends because they didn't have discretion. In my mind, taking pictures of those who don't have the ability to either give or deny permission to take or post a picture of them naked is completely out of bounds. The elderly and young children fit into this category, along with completely obliterated college students or Spring Break-ers too drunk to notice that someone has a camera pointed at them after they've stripped off.
You wouldn't take a picture of your mother nude, right?! (If you said "Yes I would" to this, you need some serious counseling and perhaps a good brain bleaching...) You wouldn't take a picture of your grandmother nude, right?! (Double if you answered this one "Yes I would"...) You wouldn't post a picture of a younger sibling nude, right?! (Triple, you sicko-creepers.....)
Maybe it's something about the area I'm in right now (it's literally deemed Baby Capitol of the World) but people have no boundaries when it comes to children (I'll explain this phenomenon in my "Spirit-Crusher" story in just one minute). I haven't ever met the children of these three mothers, yet I've been forced to repeatedly view their children's respective genitalia- it's pretty much "surprise paedo-porn" on your newsfeed ("WHOA- hello! I didn't ask to see that!"). I reported the mothers before I deleted them because 1) I was horrified that someone would ever do this as it's repulsive and totally out of line, 2) If someone was a total freak and liked looking at little children naked they absolutely could (these pictures were public not "friends only", 3) I felt like a pervert. I took a shower and tried to expunge those images out of my head but they wouldn't really disappear, which left me feeling dirty, disconcerted, and disgusted.My brain was branded with baby penises. Awkward.
People here have some interesting ways of (dealing?) interacting with their kids as well. The most popular is the zone-out ("My child is screaming blue-fecking-murder about something; this has been happening all day so I am choosing to just ignore him"). The second is the brush-off, which leads us to my "Spirit-Crusher" story.
Spirit. Crusher. (Soul Eater? Dementor? 300/Braveheart Combo?) Raaaaah! It sounds like a name for a pit-bull or some freakish carnival ride that has people plummeting to their deaths under Niagara Falls, right? Along with the "grrrawr!" factor that comes with the moniker, it apparently describes a personal character trait of mine.
We've all been through the scenario where we meet a weird guy/girl and think, "It doesn't, no, it can't get any weirder than that person. It just isn't possible.", then the next day/week/month someone manages to outdo them, giving you an "Okay, I didn't think that was possible for someone to be even more odd...whoa." moment where your mind was completely blown? Well, I had one of those, except it was a "I just met a parent/child duo even stranger/worse than the last one I wrote about" moment. This seems to happen frequently and (gladly) true to Newton's Law, this reaction was met with an equal and opposite reaction of adorable little-kid-edness that will warm your heart once I'm finished describing my cold one.
This nickname was not bestowed upon me by a newspaper for single-handedly managing to take down a gang boss or a coke dealer nor by the city mayor or prime minister for saving the lives of three old ladies after rescuing them from separate burning buildings. No, it came about in an entirely new and....unique...way. Essentially, I received this dub by a woman at the regional hospital where I went for a brainbox appointment (you know, just checkin' out what's up inside my skull again...).
I went to the hospital for my appointment and, since I got there about 20 minutes early (they like to triple check insurance info there...), I was semi-snoozing in the waiting room. When I closed my eyes in hopes of getting rid of what was one of the worst headaches ever, the waiting room was empty, save for myself and the secretary behind her desk. I tilted my head back against the wall, seeking any sort of relief for the ice-pick pressure and after a few moments I was able to tune into the tick of the clock, the clack of the secretary's keys, and the sound of her foot tapping. I decided to make it even more tranquil so I put my earbuds in and I closed my eyes; I had about 15 minutes until my appointment and I was focusing on some relaxation techniques I'd learned during my time at Stanford. I felt as though my headache might actually be getting better until I unexpectedly felt a hand in very close proximity to a very...."sensitive"...area of my body. I came screaming out of my tenuous reverie to find a small child patting my....let's just say "upper leg".
"Whoa..."
Skip to 0:14 for my precise reaction. Except for "dog"...put in the word "kid".
I looked around for a mother to whom I could gasp, "Huh?? What?!" at but saw no one. Not at the desk, not getting a magazine, and not at the glugging water pitcher with those flimpsy cone-shaped paper cups. I was at a loss. This random little toddler was standing next to my legs, patting me (which I put an end to by awkwardly pulling my satchel into my lap, becoming incredibly stiff and confused), and looking at me.
The little girl was probably an early two years old (along with being tenuous around children comes the inability to properly estimate age...) and she started to climb on me. Patting my....leg....and then climbing on me. I'm not a touchy-touchy-feely-feely person so I was already incredibly uncomfortable.
The only thing that would come out of my mouth was, "Eeeeeuuurrrrgh? Ummmmm.....uhhh....haaaah. Rrrr?"
I just...I was speechless haha. I had no idea what to do beside gently kind of freak out. I am so hesitant around random children it isn't even funny.
I stood up and walked over to grab a mint from the secretary's desk but all this did was make the girl's eyes see "CANDY!" I didn't want to give her one because kids are allergic to all sorts of weird stuff as of late and I didn't want her to choke and die and then get myself thrown in jail for attempting to appease the kid. This mint-jaunt caused a temper tantrum like none. other.
I put my earbuds back in (noise canceling technology rocks my world...) I leaned back in my seat again, put my satchel back in my lap and attempted to tune out the now ridiculously voluminous shrieks of the small angry toddler who was back at my leg poking me for candy. I wanted to yell but I thought, "It's a little kid. And despite your likely-seizure-related headache, you can't just scream at a child for being annoying, especially in a neurology clinic- and you can't shout because other people probably have headaches too, they're just lucky and are enclosed in rooms where they can't be hunted down by random small candy-desiring humans."
So there I was, attempting to focus on my awful headache and what I was going to tell my doctor when the little girl started climbing on me. She was grabbing my trousers and standing on my feet and I refused to open my eyes for fear or throwing up because of my light-sensitivity (which was growing worse with every scream from this kid). It stopped for a moment and I had just relaxed my shoulders in relief when I felt small hands grabbing at my shirt from the left side, making me jump. The kid was grabbing at my glasses, plucking my earbuds none-so-gently from my ears, poking me, and literally climbing on me. I plucked her off, physically reoriented her to face away from me, and "shooed" her a bit. Apparently her mum had come back in and, when I gave an almighty groan of "WTF?!?"-ness as I pushed her forward gently, the mum goes, "You could at least say hi- thanks for crushing my child's spirit. She was just being friendly. You should be ashamed for being so rude. Come here Silla. Never you mind her, she's just a spirit crusher."
I stared at her, thought for a moment and said, "Using baby talk to make a point is pathetic. Beside, it's 7AM. I am about to have a seizure and I have the mother of all headaches. I go in to see my neurolgist in a few minutes and I was attempting to think of something to say to him when you decided to leave your child alone with me. I am not a babysitter, I'm not a TV, I'm not any sort of entertainment. I do not have any sort of obligation to your child and I have no desire to have any sort of verbal interaction with a child that is carrying on in the incredible manner your child is managing right now. And as for "spirit crusher" you're being absolutely ludicrous. You child will never remember me. You're just bitter for God knows what reason and you need to be quiet before I say some really choice things. You're an inconsiderate and irresponsible slouch for leaving your child to a random stranger. Like I said, I'm no one's babysitter. And even if I had wanted to, your child was all over me and was screaming so loud that I couldn't possibly manage legitimate words. Oh, and your daughter wants candy. "
Needless to say, seizures put me in a rather black mood.....
Monday, January 7, 2013
New Beginnings...
Well, it's a fresh year here at The Epic Epileptic and I hope you are having as great a new start as I am!
University classes start up again this week (I had my first at 8AM this morning...it was 0C outside and I found myself unable to justify wearing my usual flip flops)! Excited, yes. Looking forward to gobs of homework and loads of quizzes and exams, not so much.
I thought I'd write about an interesting subject in this post- it's one I'm hearing a lot about lately.
I'm a heterosexual girl (I'm very much a "tom-boy") but I have a number of friends who are homosexual, transgender, or bisexual; because of the current climate in the world surrounding homosexuality, etc., it surprises me when people get very judgy with them. I wanted to write because of something that was said yesterday in a religious setting.
As a student at a private university run by the Mormon church, I do expect to be surrounded by a slightly different point of view than I'd be around in almost any other place. A girl stood up last night in a group meeting I sat in on, just for kicks, and was saying something about missionary experiences she'd had that week and in the middle of her little relation she said something like,
"...this fad or thinking it'd be cool to be homosexual..."
I furrowed my brow like, "Uh, what?" but she'd moved on.
Is that really what people think about LGBTQIA people nowadays? That they're choosing to be gay because it's a cool fad? This girl was clearly a bit off her game (maybe it was the frigid temperature?) but it made me wonder how many people that I sit next to in class, that I talk to on Facebook, that I sit next to at the stoplight, etc., how many of them think that being gay is a choice that people are making because it's "in" right now?
Science is proving that people who are gay or transgender tend to know from very early on. A friend of mine says she "knew it since she was 4 or 5" that she was supposed to be a girl; likewise, another friend of mine came out when he was 12. People might think, "They're confused!" or "They just need to play with more trucks (or dolls) and they'll sort it all out." (I don't think that's so) Case studies show that the more a parent tries to put their gender-bending (I seriously love that phrase haha it makes me imagine someone bending backward whilst levitating above a pile of blue and pink clothing) child into their birth gender, the more unhappy the child gets. Sometimes the child will be shy about it or will "pretend to be a boy in public" but then come home and transition into that gender they would like to be.
How difficult it must be to be transgender- I have my days where I wear baggy clothes (usually after I eat loads of food haha) and heavy shoes and then I have days where I wear my quite feminine clothing, but I don't ever have to feel awkward about wearing what I wear. It's perfectly acceptable for a girl to wear pants nowadays and it's fine that I don't own a scrap of pink clothing. I don't have to entertain the notion of "hiding" who I am or who I want to be to satisfy the public/society's rules on gender identity.
What do you think about religious opinions on homosexuality? Do you ever feel like a population (Mormon, Catholic, Protestant, etc.) takes it too far to be against LGBTQIA rights?
If you have thoughts on the matter, I'd like to know what they are.
Happy New Semester, New Year, and New Day,
EpicEpileptic
University classes start up again this week (I had my first at 8AM this morning...it was 0C outside and I found myself unable to justify wearing my usual flip flops)! Excited, yes. Looking forward to gobs of homework and loads of quizzes and exams, not so much.
I thought I'd write about an interesting subject in this post- it's one I'm hearing a lot about lately.
I'm a heterosexual girl (I'm very much a "tom-boy") but I have a number of friends who are homosexual, transgender, or bisexual; because of the current climate in the world surrounding homosexuality, etc., it surprises me when people get very judgy with them. I wanted to write because of something that was said yesterday in a religious setting.
As a student at a private university run by the Mormon church, I do expect to be surrounded by a slightly different point of view than I'd be around in almost any other place. A girl stood up last night in a group meeting I sat in on, just for kicks, and was saying something about missionary experiences she'd had that week and in the middle of her little relation she said something like,
"...this fad or thinking it'd be cool to be homosexual..."
I furrowed my brow like, "Uh, what?" but she'd moved on.
Is that really what people think about LGBTQIA people nowadays? That they're choosing to be gay because it's a cool fad? This girl was clearly a bit off her game (maybe it was the frigid temperature?) but it made me wonder how many people that I sit next to in class, that I talk to on Facebook, that I sit next to at the stoplight, etc., how many of them think that being gay is a choice that people are making because it's "in" right now?
Science is proving that people who are gay or transgender tend to know from very early on. A friend of mine says she "knew it since she was 4 or 5" that she was supposed to be a girl; likewise, another friend of mine came out when he was 12. People might think, "They're confused!" or "They just need to play with more trucks (or dolls) and they'll sort it all out." (I don't think that's so) Case studies show that the more a parent tries to put their gender-bending (I seriously love that phrase haha it makes me imagine someone bending backward whilst levitating above a pile of blue and pink clothing) child into their birth gender, the more unhappy the child gets. Sometimes the child will be shy about it or will "pretend to be a boy in public" but then come home and transition into that gender they would like to be.
How difficult it must be to be transgender- I have my days where I wear baggy clothes (usually after I eat loads of food haha) and heavy shoes and then I have days where I wear my quite feminine clothing, but I don't ever have to feel awkward about wearing what I wear. It's perfectly acceptable for a girl to wear pants nowadays and it's fine that I don't own a scrap of pink clothing. I don't have to entertain the notion of "hiding" who I am or who I want to be to satisfy the public/society's rules on gender identity.
What do you think about religious opinions on homosexuality? Do you ever feel like a population (Mormon, Catholic, Protestant, etc.) takes it too far to be against LGBTQIA rights?
If you have thoughts on the matter, I'd like to know what they are.
Happy New Semester, New Year, and New Day,
EpicEpileptic
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