As my time in New York draws to a close...

...I feel very sad.
I dread the day when I wake up and won't be able to execute my perfected morning routine of:

• wake up
• dance to The White Stripes 'Elephant' in my pyjamas
  
• climb onto the fire escape to check weather/take in amazingness of East Village
  
• get dressed in some variety of 'out there' clothing
• go to the cafe for hot chocolate, facebook and neighborly 'good mornings' with all the peeps from the area who I've got to know.
  

I'll be crying every time I hear Empire State of Mind again. This happens whenever I leave New York and is a clear indicator that I should NOT leave New York. But there's the little problem of a Visa, money and my life back home.

People have been asking me what's been the highlight of my stay in New York and I honestly don't know. One of them is definitely the trip I took to Rheinbeck with Lisa, who kindly has let me have her sofa bed for the duration of my New York stay and brought me to a vast array of events and places which I never would have seen otherwise. Taking Amtrak was an experience in itself, so comfortable and the views were great. When I stepped off the train at Rhinecliff and my lungs filled up with cold clean air that smelled vaguely of woodsmoke I knew I was going to love it there. Their house was beautiful, a white wood haven of warmth in the midst of rolling fields and forests which I explored shortly after arriving in my absolute favourite way; on horseback. Holly the Welsh pony took great care of me as we cantered through the yellow/gold/green of upstate New York, her breath and mine like clouds in the cold air.




I spent the rest of my trip eating amazing food, watching Harry Potter movies and exploring the lovely towns of Tivoli and Rheinbeck. It was pretty close to my idea of heaven.

Back in the city I've had some great days too; walking through the almost empty New York streets on Thanksgiving, followed by the true American dinner experience in Brooklyn; going to see a friends friend play in bar Williamsburg for the true indie experience and sitting in MoMa staring at my faves Pollock and 'smudgy squares' Rothko.



It blew my mind when I read that when MoMa bought their first Rothko in 1952 a trustee board member was so outraged he resigned.

My last week here is packed with internship stuff, seeing friends who I haven't seen yet, some parties and probably some Christmas shopping, and I'm terrified its gonna fly by and I'll be on a plane watching the Statue Of Liberty wave goodbye before I know it. I'd better find some time to sit in the Bean writing and people watching, which has for realz become my favourite thing to do in New York.

I got quite excited when I saw some snowflakes float by this morning. I finally have a chance to wear my sheepskin lined Docs that I got in T.K. Maxx during the summer! Though by the sounds of it I'll be living in them to conquer an Ireland covered in snow.

Until then...I'm gonna go take a lovely dog for a walk to distract me from the thoughts of leaving and maybe bottle some NY snow to bring home.

New York, New York

It's a beautiful sunny morning in New York City and its hard to believe that in Ireland its currently raining and economically imploding.

I've been in New York for almost 3 weeks now and am truly in love. I totally understand what that T-shirt is trying to say.

New York is beautiful and weird and there's a million different worlds depending on where you get off the subway, you can be whoever you want whenever you want , you can have have breakfast for dinner or dinner for breakfast, you can find your dream job or make a job of dreaming. Sometimes when I'm walking down the street, looking around me, this sense of happiness washer over me in a way I've never felt anywhere else. The sun shines almost every day, even when its cold, and I can spend whole days in cafe's reading and people watching to my hearts content. I eat breakfast on the fire escape watching the autumn leaves blow around the street and it feels like I'm in a film but in a great way. I wear whatever I want without being judged or put in a box, and even if I am its ok because the rest of the people in here are really cool and I don't mind being like them. I accesorize pretentiously with a hot chocolate and a book and take the subway in a nonchalant fashion. And in amongst all these people and buildings, I feel more alive than I ever have before.




Obviously, its not all cinematic moments of perfection. I find myself more alone than I have ever been before and though I'm enjoying the freedom it brings, New York can be a lonely place. When I'm feeling really lonely I go across the street to the animal shelter and take a dog for a long walk around the area.

I've got to know some lovely dogs and had some great chats with random people on the street. I fell a bit hopelessly in love with a pit bull puppy and even looked into how hard it would be to get her home but it would have been way too complicated and expensive. It all came about because I went in one day and there were no dogs to walk but the guy asked me to play with the puppy because it was sad about being away from its mother so I happily obliged and sat there for an hour happily cuddling and petting her. She's gone now (heartbreak) but he said there's were more puppies coming in today, so hopefully some of them will need cuddling too.

There's always something to do in this city, so when I'm not staying in to watch Mad Men or read I have been to some interesting stuff, including a back-room reading and the preview of Tiny Furniture in the Museum of Modern Art. Tiny Furniture is a film by a new up and coming writer/director/actress called Lena Durham.

She stars in the film, alongside her mum and her sister, and does a really good job of portraying whats its like to be released into the world after finishing a B.A. in Nothing Useful For a Job and feel lost. It's rare that I see something I find genuinely funny, and this was also clever and depressing in equal enjoyable measures.

Another interesting thing I went to was, you know *nonchalant*...Florence and The Machine!! Flo played up an absolute storm; it was the best show of hers that I've seen yet. Her voice sounded amazing soaring through the rafters of Terminal 5 and she twirled and danced around the stage like a leaf caught in a whirlwind of excitement. I always think seeing her play is like taking a Florence drug; you experience highs and lows and you get goosebumps and dance like crazy and afterwards you're exhausted but incredibly happy. She also looked like the High Priestess of Awesome.



As far as reading is concerned, I am lucky enough to be living close to The Strand which is only the best bookshop In The World.

I've just finished reading Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist (which was great if even just for the fact that the whole book takes place within a 2 block radius of my apartment) and The Graduate, which was good at first but kind of degenerated into a farcical screen play meets Catcher In The Rye vibe in the end. I also read Clockwork Angel on the plane over, the prequel to the Mortal Instruments series I wrote about before. As someone who has never read Sci-Fi before and is slightly sceptical (I try not to lean towards scornful like most) about it, I really enjoy the whole vampires/demons/angelic descendant fighter world created in them.

Ok, I have been sitting here nursing a hot chocolate for about 3 hours now and the sound of the rustling leaves blowing along the pavement outisde in the sun is distracting me and making me want to go out for a wander. I'm always secretly hoping to bump into Garance Dore and Scott 'The Sartorialist' Schuman and become BFF's...but for now I'll have to make do with my ipod and some adventures.

NaNoWriMo

'Thirty days and nights of literary abandon'
November is officially National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) so I decided to take the plunge and signed up to www.nanowrimo.org . Basically the idea is to write a 50,000 word novel in a month, which breaks down as about 1500 words a day. Some of the novels have been sold and published successfully, like NY Times Bestseller 'Water for Elephants'. Signing up means you make a profile and they send you encouraging emails with pep talks from the likes of Dave Eggers, as well as info about events going on near you where other NaNoWriMo people get together to write and probably give out about hard it is. Nothing like a bit of communal complaining. I'll be in New York for all of November so I'll have to find a nice local cafe to write in every day, and it would be nice to meet other people who are doing it too because I need NY friends! Preferably nice cool ones. If you're successful you get a CERTIFICATE. Thats right, a certificate with your name on it saying how awesome you are. Everyone likes those.

Only a few days to go now until I jet off to JFK, and I'm busy freaking out about flying, trying to find adaptors, figuring out what the weather in New York is like, filling in forms for the United States government, reading about Tea Partiers, and practising (or should I say 'practicing') my american by listening to The Notorious XX, specially this:



Its all about the Benjamins baby.

A scrapheap of things I've been meaning to write about.

A few things happening/I've been thinking about/listening to:

1. I booked flights to become a New York City girl for almost 7 weeks at the end of October. My plans include wandering lonely as a cloud through the East Village, travelling to DC to see Obama's crib and generally soaking up all the awesomeness. Oh, and get working on my novel. And take lots of pictures. And hang around outside of Trash and Vaudeville (like the guy in the picture).


2. A major event in the world over the past few weeks was the release of the 33 Chilean miners trapped underground since August. So many people all working together to save them was kind of amazing. I was home sick so tried to watch as much as I could live on Sky News; the Phoenix 2 coming out of the ground once or twice an hour to release a miner into the anxiously awaiting arms of friends or family managed to make me tear up literally every time. I'm a total sucker for real life drama. Oprah kills me. I definitely won't be able to watch the episode where Oprah has the Chilean miners on.

3. Columbine by Dave Cullen: I finished it a while ago, and literally couldn't stop thinking or talking about it. I tried to write a blog post about it just after I finished, but kept referring to the killer by their first names and rambling into details that wouldn't have made any sense had you not read the book. Having never read non-fiction before, it was weird and kind of difficult for me to deal with that towards the end I felt I really knew all the 'characters', including my favourite FBI negotiator Dr. Fuselier, and then realizing they were all real people. That this really happened.
I would definitely recommend it to anyone and everyone who is in any way interested in what happened at Columbine. It doesn't just explain what actually happened, but also why, to whom and what happened next. I was surprised and a bit freaked out to find that nothing I had heard or known about it before was actually true; that they were Marilyn Manson fans, that they were loners, and most importantly that it was a high-school shooting. It was in fact an attempted bombing; their intention was to blow up hundreds of people and shoot the survivors as the ran to safety. The random shooting of students and teacher was a consolation act.
The book didn't have any pictures, and I'm not going to put any up in this post, because frankly the smiling year book pictures of Eric and Dylan frighten me. The knowledge that out there on the internet I can watch CCTV footage of them wandering the halls, with all I know about them now, is, for want of a better word, very weird. It took 10 years to finish, and even Cullen says 'living for that long with a massacre isn't easy'. I really admire his strength. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is: read it because its interesting, well written and will make you think.

4. The Social Network. I went to see it last night at the Irish Film Institute which is my new favourite place. Great hot chocolate and films. Anyway, I thought The Social Network was great. It managed to grab my attention straight away and didn't even let me consider letting my mind wander until I walked out. Jesse Eisenberg was very good as Mark Zuckerberg, who came across as being a super smart kind-of-asshole with some social issues and a dry sense of humour. The rest of the cast were awesome as well, including Mr. Timberlake. I have been watching a lot of films lately, and therefore am beginning to really appreciate a film which is enjoyable and interesting, because they are apparently rarer than I though, and The Social Network was definitely both. Thought it did really make me want to check my Facebook and then feel kind of weird about it at the same time. That boy knew what he was doing.


5. I am loving this song.



I would like to dedicate it to someone, but that would be rude, and I'm a lady.

6. It's almost winter again! I'm unreasonably excited about this. Jumpers! Fur coats! Boots! Woolly socks! Yay! Winter is a time for being cosy, going for countryside walks, hugs, Christmas, all the good stuff.

Friends Electric

With the dawning of September every years comes the rise of many tents being set up on the horizon in Stradbally, Co. Laois. I went to Electric Picnic for the first time when I was 18. We snook 3 people in on 1 band, camped beside the dance tent and had, like, the most AMAZING weekend ever yeah? Last year I went down for the day to see Florence. When I got a free weekend pass this year I considered the camping experience but then I remembered that rain exists and I hate crowds, so me and a friend drove down on Friday afternoon to catch some acts.

I was very excited about seeing Laura Marling and she WAS great, but sadly the tent was very loud and despite her repeated requests for people to keep it down because she had a cold and couldn't sing very loud, it was hard to hear her, specially during Blackberry Stone. I got her new album the other day and its, as expected, pretty close to perfect. Beautiful voice and poetic lyrics with just the right amount of reality.


We proceeded to go for a wander through the Body and Soul village, which even packed with people is kind of a magical personal experience. It makes you feel like a kid the way you walk around with widened eyes taking in everything that's been laid out like a feast for the imagination.



We crawled into a massive teepee tent with a fire in its centre and pillows all around and didn't move for several hours, only tearing ourselves away finally to go see Ms. Janelle Monae on the Body and Soul stage at around 10 o'clock at night. Three cloaked creatures danced onto the stage, hoods up, one of them rapping and turning around to reveal herself as the fabulously coiffed Janelle. Her show was electrifying. Even though I was standing on a slope and packed between two groups of drunk Irish LADS who didn't really know what was going on I managed to dance like crazy to Cold War, Tightrope and Wondaland. I love seeing bands when they are young and about to make it big because they have this ENERGY that they share readily with their audiences.


I took a time out from the Picnic on the Saturday to visit my friend and partake in some ritual burning, which we both agreed is good for the soul and should be done regularly. Also discovered this Unknown Fact: The National named their album High Violet after my friend Violet. FACT.

On Sunday I once again dug out my anorak (yeah, like I hadn't been wearing it every day anyway) and journeyed back to Loais to find my parents wandering around the Mindfield looking a bit dazed and some of my friends looking worse-for-wear but very happy. We all larked about like a big hippy commune for a while, then some of us went to hide beneath the covers of a giant Penguin paperback and I joined the rest ambling over to the Crawdaddy tent to see the Big Pink. They were definitely the loudest thing I've ever been to: the bass pushed down on your chest and threatened to take over your heart beat, the guitar rattled your bones and pressed your eardrums insistently. It was like being attacked by music, in a not entirely unpleasant way. Definite highlights of the sets were my friend rousing a sheepish smile with her manic waving from her step-brother the keyboard player, briefly cracking his image as super cool London INABAND, and their cover of Beyonce's Sweet Dreams.


After the Big Pink we wandered about; I jumped up and down to some Mumford and Sons, had an amazing burrito, and eventually ended up back in the fire teepee. At this stage the skies opened properly, soaking everything and anything and then some. I tore myself away from the cozy warmth of the fireside to go meet my parents in the guest area for a lift home, but finding them not ready to go yet ('we're just going to have ONE more drink darling') I climbed onto the guest areas raised stage which allowed me to see right across the crowds and watch Massive Attack do a beautiful show, made all the more poignant by the absolute pouring rain. It was lonely in a nice way.


After a long and quite strange bus journey on a gigantic coach carrying 5 of us back to Dublin I collapsed into bed freezing but happy after a lovely weekend.

If I was young I'd flee this town, I've buried my dreams underground.

I found out at about 5 o'clock on Tuesday that Beirut were playing in Dublin at 8 o'clock that same day, and was completely devestated at the prospect of missing it. When I asked around as to why NO ONE TOLD ME everyone said 'well I presumed you knew!'. I didn't let it faze me however, and myself and a friend who I shall call Candy Warhol made our way to Tripod armed with a lot of hope and some faith that fate would come through for us. There were quite a few people standing around looking at each other shiftily, not wanting to make eye contact in any sort of friendly manner in case a ticket came along and you had to push them out of the way/slap them. It was getting closer and closer to Beirut O'clock and we were obviously looking quite desolate because a blond guy wearing a nerdy/cool blue and white checked shirt and smoking a rollie who was walking past in a group of similarly Brooklyn-trendy looking people slowed down and said 'Hey, are you guys looking for tickets?'. I replied with a very cool 'eh..yes!'. 'Oh thats cool, just say you're (name blank in case I get him in trouble!) on the guest list plus one'. Once again I was the picture of laid back appreciation as I stumbled over the words 'oh my god...thank you...thank you so much' and tried to contain my ridiculous happiness. With a brief awkward smile and a 's'cool' our knight in shining armour was gone. For now. We made our way to the front of the crowd so as to have a good view of the band and lovely Zach Condon, lead singer of Beirut and, apparently, cat owner (I read an interview with him in which he talked about his cat, which made his lovely status shoot up at least 9 points). When they walked on, we were surprised to see that our check-shirted friend was none other than Beirut's trumpet player!
They played up a storm, opening with Nantes, the song that made me fall in love with Beirut/Zach in the first place. The musicians were amazing, and Zach's singing was even better in real life, spineshiveringly soulful and different. They played all my favourites as well as a some new ones. As he came back on stage for his second encore, Zach leaned into the mic to confess that last time he 'stumbled his way through Hallelujah'. When the crowd roared its approval he ran his hand through his hair and half laughed 'not again. I'm not so good with other peoples songs'.



It was such a great gig, it honestly made me ridiculously happy, and it lasted for about 2 days afterwards.

The unexpected dose of happiness came at the right time, as the rolling around of the 28th of August marked the official end of my Sarah Lawrence dreams. I still cry every time I get post from them. But it was not to be. It was a hard lesson to learn that no matter how much you want something, or how hard you try, sometimes it just doesn't work out.

After wallowing in a pool of broken dreams for a few weeks, I had to get my act together and formulate some new high hopes so I decided I wanted to go to New York anyway on the 1 year work/internship visa available to Irish students and try to take a 10 week novel writing course at NYU at the same time.

On a happier note, I am now the proud owner of a Nikon D40 :) I had been saving up to buy an SLR for a while, and whilst in York I had used my friends D40 and loved it, so when some birthday kindness meant I had enough to buy one, I started looking around. The D40 isn't being made anymore so I was looking for a 2nd hand one, and I had a few incidents where sales clerks said 'You don't want that old one! For only 400e more you can buy this D3000! LOOK, new and shiny!' but my heart was set and I just sadly shook my head. Finally, my lovely friend Paul directed me to Conns Cameras where they had one in stock and the rest is history. I named it Paul after Paul. It really is a great little camera :) I'm still only learning how to use it but we're best mates all ready.

I gotta get to the passport office now to make me an official Irish person. I hope I don't have to wait around for ever. I'm bringing a new book just in case; Columbine by Dave Cullen. I've been reading up about high school shootings for a character I was writing about, but I've had this book for a while and not gotten round to reading it so I'm looking forward to starting today.

Hope everyones enjoying the last of the summer sun :)

The real life horse whisperer! (and some other real life stuff)

Yesterday I went to the RDS for the Dublin Horse Show! I go every year just to soak up all the lovely ponyness and enjoy the excruciatingly nerve-wracking experience that is the Aga Khan FEI Nations Cup (kinda like the world cup for showjumping). This year there was another super exciting event to look forward to though; a demonstration by Monty Roberts, a real life horse whisperer. I got his book The Man Who Listens to Horses when I was about 11 or 12 and used to totally idolize him. We got a seat on the grandstand to watch the 4 year olds showjumping class, and stayed put through the rain storm whilst Monty's students set up a round pen in the arena. Monty ran into the ring waving and wearing a stetson and cowboy boots. They brought in a 16hh grey mare called Heather who pranced and reared around as her owner explained over a mic that she was agressive to handle, spooky and wouldn't take a rider. Monty did his famous 'join up' routine that resulted in the horse eventually coming in to him and following him around wherever he went. It was lovely. It makes sense that he works with kids in juvenile detention because when you see this small-ish old man calm a wild-ish horse in 10 minutes and have it walking around behind him across giant tarps of plastic when it couldn't handle a single bag at the start, without him laying a single hand on her or raising his voice, you realise that he's right: 'violence only helps the violator, and never the victim'. Even as Heather was lashing out at him with her hooves, he was explaining how often the most violent horses turn out to be the most gentle once they are taught to trust people. Lovely lovely lovely.


In other news, we currently have a house guest in the form of Lisa Faith Phillips, who is in Dublin to do her show How To Be a Bad Girl in Bewleys Cafe Theatre on the 8th of August. I haven't seen this one yet but if you're around I recommend catching it because her shows are a lot of fun.


Lisa also introduced my parents waay back in the day, which is an irrelevant but interesting fact :) she ALSO got me an awesome present in the form of a ticket to see Florence and The Machine play in Terminal 5, New York on November 1st. I'm so excited about seeing Florence play again! Her live shows are so spine-tingling good, I can't wait. I was doing some Florence watching on YouTube in preperation and came across this awesome cover of En Vogues 'Don't Let Go'



Lisa's present got me thinking about my top 5 presents list. I have received many presents in my 22 years but here are some of my favourites (in nor particular order of favouriteness)
1. My Little Pony on a chain that Martini made me for my 21st.
2. Chamele No. 5 from Moore St.
3. Two old volumes of William Blakes completed works my dad got me for my 21st birthday.
4. A headcollar and leadrope a friend of my parents got me when I was 12 because she 'knew I'd have my own pony some day to use them on'.
5. Ticket to Florence and The Machine in New York.
There's a whole other blog post in the making about my Twilight related gifts, of which I have received an unsettling for others but awesome for me amount.

The other day when I woke up in a room full of smoke and I thought the house was on fire, it raced trough my mind that I would have to choose certain things to rescue (apart from my kitties obviously). This was a slight cause of panic because I lean slightly towards the hoarder side of the hoarder/non hoarder scale and have many treasured possessions. When I was a kid I used to insist on travelling with all these cigar boxes I filled with stuff I deemed incredibly important and I think it never really wore off. Thankfully there was no fire and I still have all my lovely paintings and books and boxes of random crap. I'm working on a top 5 list of treasured items (always think about this on a Saturday because of the question in the Guardian Weekend magazine interview 'what is your most treasured possession?') but I think its gonna take a while...so many pretty shiny things to choose from.

Here's a video I made of my furry alive treasured possessions documenting their unhealthy attachment to catnip. I would just like to note that I am not a crazy cat lady who spends all her time making videos of her cats. I sometimes go to work/sleep/do non cat related things. But not often.

Life On Da Street Corner

As some of you may know, I am currently employed by Concern Worldwide as an On-The-Street Fundraiser (!). The (!) is there because this job title has to be said with enthusiasm. It's the law.
As an On-The-Street Fundraiser (!) I spend my days standing on various streets around Dublin and sometimes other places like Monaghan (I seem to be spending a lot of time in Monaghan. If life is trying to send me a sign that I should move there its getting ignored. New York is way better looking). I am what is sometimes known as a chugger. I, however, am one of the nice chuggers who isn't allowed chase people down the street or say 'oh, too broke to give 21 euros a month eh...yeah...nice watch by the way, is it new?'. Bummer, I know, but its actually nice working for people who are doing something good for the world.
Seeing as I'm not allowed to move around, I have been told to find a spot and stay there, kind of like a hoe defending her corner. No, it doesn't say that in the manual but its totally what they meant.
I've had some interesting customers in my previous jobs, one of the most memorable being the old man in Reads who brought in bookmarks with poems on them that he wrote for his dead wife who was killed by a car outside on Naussau Street, but working on the (da) street is definitely where you meet the weirdies. Here are some of the things that have happened so far:

• A 60 something American man wearing reflective sunglasses told me he worked for the American government, so I said 'ooooh, are you in the FBI?'. He gave me a long hard look and said 'how did you know?'. He told me he worked for the Seattle branch and was very impressed with my detection skills, so impressed in fact that he told me to come to Seattle when I graduated and join the FBI. He was very serious.
• A woman who, when asked if she had a minute to spare for Concern, replied with 'actually, I'm writing a socio-feminist novel that'll probably divide society as we know it forever when it comes out, so no, I'm kind of busy'.
• A man who accused me of being personally responsible for the death of unborn children because I work for a charity that promotes 'population control' (a.k.a. as trying to prevent the spreading of AIDS). He read my nametag and repeatedly said my name. He got it right and everything, he didn't even call me Sarah.
  
• That was also the same day a junkie came up behind me, pushed me out of the way and told me to 'GET A BLOODY REAL JOB!'.

Sigh. But like I said, good cause. And it also led me to buy my black anorak, from which I am now inseparable. It's so awesome.

Note:I just took a break from writing this blog and signed up my parents friend in the living room. Kind of resentful that I am not wearing my anorak coz its too warm.

Anyway, if ya see me on the street, its ok to avoid me, just say 'I'm avoiding you'. The worst is the people who make you feel like you actually are invisible. Sometimes this job can be a series of existential identity crisis moments. But its a job, and kids in child labour are being sent back to school, and I'm saving money for the big escape...so for now I'll keep defending my street corner. Watch out bitches.

my kingdom for a horse

A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!- Richard The Third (Act 5, Scene 4)

Or as I would say: PONIES!

I have just about summoned up enough strength from my aching bones to tell of my adventure to Castle Leslie Estate, Co. Monaghan.

Day 1:
Myself and my comrade on this adventure, Avril, arrived at the Lodge in blazing sunshine and after standing there for a few minutes going 'wow, this place is so cool!' we went to check in. When she opened the door to the room and only saw one (GIANT) bed the Receptionist looked worried and said 'oh sorry, did you ask for twin beds?' and we assured her that it was fine and that we didn't. She looked openly uncomfortable to be in the presence of what must be lesbians and quickly ran away. After jumping up and down on the bed of ridiculousness for a while we went to explore the grounds. We picked up a map at reception (yes, this place has its own map) but managed to somehow still get lost by wandering off the beaten track onto a path that looked kind of like a tunnel through the forest, half way down which our phone networks decided we had crossed the border into Northern Ireland. After sizing up the cross country jumps and quaking in fear at the prospect of the next days riding we went to the Castle to sit in the amazing drawing room drinking complimentary home made lemonade and read books about art whilst a rain storm happened outside. On the way back to our room the receptionist decided she was gonna try and reach out to some poor lesbians and advised us on what was the best pub to go to in the area. She then told us she was going to Dublin to see Twilight with her boyfriend, upon which we made friends forever (a girl who travels for hours for Twilight is a friend of mine).

Day Two:
In the morning we choked down breakfast, shushing each other whenever we tried to voice our terror about the slowly approaching cross country ride, and put on our pony gear going 'this is going to be fun!' in over enthusiastic tones. We wandered down to the yard and got introduced to our ponies: mine was called Jane and she was a giant pony a.k.a as a large horse. I had a chat with her as we set off, so we were cool and shit by the time it came to the first jumps. I was nervous at first, but as I flew across the 2nd run of jumps I suddenly remembered how much I loved cross country. Its like a crazy adrenaline rush mixed with mud and thundering hooves. I jumped coffins, tables and chairs, cottage jumps, logs, up and down steps and a big bank out of the lake (this won't mean anything unless you know ponies, but was very impressive for us). It started raining as we walked down through a river towards home, and it was one of those perfect moments that you appreciate just as much when your living it as when you remember it.
Back at the hotel we moved like old people all ready but it was made slightly better by chilling in the hot tub in the rain and hanging out on day beds in white fluffy robes. When we finally got it together to get dressed we went back to the Castle to reclaim our couch corner. We went exploring and found a cinema room, complete with lazy boys and massive dvd collection, but (SHAME) we were too scared to stay hidden in the depths of an echoing castle in the dark to avail of this awesome place. Back in the drawing room we were served very elaborate tea by a polite young man who obviously thought we were a bit mental. Coulda been because every time we moved we made a simultaneous OWWW noise. Our friend the kingsize bed was the perfect place for being in pain though.

Day 3:
Pain. Some more pain. Still buzzing from the cross country ride though so definitely worth it. French toast and pancakes for breakfast. We went to explore the estate before saying goodbye to it and fell a bit more in love with every step and agreed that we would have a similar estate together when we're older where we could wander around bareback on our ponies and have parties. I felt genuine sadness as the bus took me back to Dublin. The water doesn't come from the lake here, and it doesn't taste like earth.

Some pictures :)

Castle Leslie and the estate:



(Our) drawing room:


Our couchspace:
Tea at couchspace:

Some of the jumps:




Jane!
Cinema room:

A week later now and I can safely say I want to go back. Now. Please?

Castle Leslie is beautiful. Go there.

:)

Cyanide and Happiness

My current favourite online thingymajig is the Cyanide and Happiness comic on explosm.net
They make me laugh or cringe in the right amounts.




Also, I would just like to say:
Ponies!! <3
The smell of sun and hay always reminds me of being a kid galloping through fields, completely happy. I can't wait till I make good on my birthday present and escape to Castle Leslie with a friend to ride ponies through the lake and read books on picnic blankets.

Old age and gold shoes.

I just had to edit my info to say '22' instead of '21'. Yes, that's right, I am now IN MY TWENTIES. Oh dear. Pass the zimmerframe please, I think my hip's giving out.
Thankfully its probably from too much dancing to this:



and trying to pick up Fatness for cuddles.

Last night I went to see Marianne Faithfull play at the new theatre in Grand Canal Dock and it was a really great show. Threatening to distract me from the music, however, were my friend Violet's GOLD HIGH HEELED TRAINERS. So practical/impractical, so gold, so...awesome.

Summer Days

June is my favourite month of the year :)
The whole summer lies ahead; right now it feels like forever until September.
Earlier this lovely month some friends and myself went over to York in England and it is such a beautiful and nice place to be, especially when the sun is shining like it was during our stay. I fell in love with the second hand bookshops, especially the one beside the Minster that is 5 floors of tiny, creaking book lined rooms. Evil Eye Lounge was a cool place for hanging out (Johnny Depp's favourite bar in England apparently!) and there was loads of cool small shops like Purple Haze and the Cat Gallery.




Mostly we just did a whole lot of this :)

Upon my return to Dublin it was raining, but that soon cleared up and since then the weather has been ACTUALLY warm! Amazing. I went for Bloomsday swim in Sandycove, which was not very warm at all but very nice, and if you kind of squinted and ignored all the cars and buses and billboards and just focused on the people dressed up in straw hats you could pretend it was a different time, which is always fun.


I'm currently reading a novel written by someone I actually know, which is very exciting! Its called Strangers In America and its by a girl called Erika Meyers from Ohio, who is studying for Creative Writing Masters at UCD with James Ryan, the man himself who gave me the writing exercise that turned in The Beautiful People. I'm really enjoying the book, which is about a girl called Helena, the adopted daughter of adopted parents, who works as an exterminator. I'll write more about it when I'm finished, for now I'm just turning pages and thinking 'YES! It IS possible! Go write a novel!'.

After all my going on about the nice weather, it looks like its actually going to rain today. I guess its the perfect time to get writing...

God Is Nowhere/God Is Now Here

Its been a while since I last wrote and loads of things have been happening but I've been meaning to publish this post for a while now so I'll just go for it and leave my friends exhibition, instrumental gigs and bumper sticker songs till next time.

I finished the Rebecca Miller novel in a day and I'm struggling to put into words what I felt about it because it was one of those books that kind of floated into my brain and then out again. The beginning was interesting; the main character Pippa moves to an old folks village, called something like Marigold, with her 80 year old husband and starts undergoing an existential crisis of sorts when she realizes she's not 80, a realization that is facilitated by the waster son of the elderly couple across the road, who has a giant Jesus tattoo on his back and turned religious after receiving a massive electric shock in his early 20's. It floats back and forth between the past and present kind of clumsily compared to Cats Eye, and quite a lot of the past, set in New York in the 70's, is cliched.

I live in fear of cliches in writing, in others and my own, because I feel like it can drain the life out of a good story.

I suppose my summary would be: sweet, sometimes interesting, not on the top 5 list but would give it to someone who needs a break from reality.

I'm now reading Hey Nostradamus! by Douglas Coupland and it is very good. It reminds me of Chuck Palahniuk with softer edges. Its basically about a high school shooting and the repercussions it has on 4 peoples lives, one being Cheryl a pregnant and secretly married student who writes 'God is Nowhere/God is Now Here' in her copy book minutes before she is killed. Her surviving classmates pen it all over her coffin, an action her boyfriend/husband sees as meaningless and her dad sees as a waste of the nice pearly coffin he picked out. Its a good example of the dark humour of the book, the way it uses that to show the effects of death on life as opposed to just the general aftermath. It's a complicated novel but what I like about it is that I'm pretty sure everyone could find a bit of themselves in at least one of the characters.
And the cover is cool too.

The Frances McManus shortlist was anounced today and sadly I didn't get shortlisted, nor did any of my other writerly friends. Maybe next year!

Thank you and good night.