One place where I do the proper falling flat on the ground kind of clumsy is CTYI cuz I actually run around like a mad yolk and even occasionally participate in sporting activities. (shocker right?). So anyway while I was there I was in the canteen one day, the last day of CAT, which was the day that one of the CAT RAs had promised that he’d hug me back, so it was lunchtime and I was finished eating but I was sitting having a chat with some people when I spotted him leaving the canteen, I wanted to get my hug and I was heading to the site office to get a hole punched in my keycard anyway since I decided I was gonna be fun and use a laynard and avoid the frantic search in the pocket for the card which had invariably lost itself in the wallet somewhere trying to be a credit card instead of like.. a key. So there I was skipping down the ramp from the higher level in the canteen when I went too fast and somehow lost control of my own feet and just went careering into a table and chairs and stuff like that that one is likely to find in a canteen. According to a guy who saw me it kind of looked like someone had picked me up and flung me horizontally.. but it was just me going mad. Anyway after that encounter I ended up with a hell of a bruise on my thigh, as well as smaller ones other places and it was fairly sore for a while, but I did end up finding the guy in the site office and getting the hug so it was all good in the end.

So like 2 days later I was walking to Croke Park from DCU (which is a hell of a long walk which I should complain about more fully another day) and I was talking and complaining about the fact that my leg was kinda sore cuz I’d been an idiot and barreled into a great big table like, and he was asking me what I’d fallen over for and I was just there like “I’m clumsy as fuck!” and he was saying he’d never noticed that about me… I really hate retelling conversations I’m just bad at it… anyho. Like a day later I was doing Ultimate Frisbee with him and as if to prove a point I fell over like every time I attempted to catch the frisbee. Actually I think it was something to do with the fact that he’s incredibly tall and kept aiming his throws a little too high for me to catch properly but I ended up on the ground a lot and fairly effectively proving the point that I’m clumsy.

So then like by the end of the course I had a myriad of bruises, none quite as impressive as the huge one on my thigh from aforementioned table incident, but it was fairly closely rivalled by a huge one on the inside of my knee that I cannot for the life of me remember getting. It was a hugely impressive deep red-y purple colour and was feckin huge!!! When I wore my dress for the final disco I took great pleasure in showing it off and complaining about it and generally going on about it as much as was possible for a person who was busy hugging and dancing and generally enjoying herself… And I showed it to the person who had doubted my clumsiness and they did admit that yeah I was kinda clumsy and it was great and stuff… but how the hell I got it??? Not a clue. And normally I remember these things… but it’s really bugging me now and it’s not like I have an easy of way of finding out… leaving me with the mystery of Phantom Bruise!! Thrilling right??
Also how many times did I use the word huge in that paragraph??? Madness…

It’s amazing how offensive pensions are. As a matter of fact they are not offensive at all, it’s just that when I see ‘pension’ what I read is ‘no penis’ and I’m like “DO NOT GO THERE MY THROBBING MANHOOD IS JUST WAITING TO BE RELEASED FROM ITS DEMIN PRISON”. It’s because they’re anagrams doofus.

I hate Hollywood stupidity. Some posters for the film ‘Salt’ carry the tagline “Can you find Salt?” and there’s a massive picture of Angie, who plays Salt. Come on. Since no one is that stupid I must conclude that they in fact are searching in vain for table salt. Perhaps they are opening a chipper.

An annoying (and henceforth anonymous) person keeps attempting to ‘Chat” with me on Facebook. In an attempt to prevent this, I took the advice of a friend and used large words to scare him. He is, needless to say from the “minimalist” school of typing. Here is what was said (It’s not for the faint of heart. Or the faint of grammar):

Me: Did you have a marvelously indulgent trifecta of months?

20.54 J*nathon: wat do u mean by dat

20.55 Me: Have you been courting a young madam?

20:56 J*nathon: ye wbu

20.58 Me: have you been participating in any forms of pre-marital cunnilingus with your esquired member of the fairer sex?

21:00 J*nathon: no wby

21:04 Me: Why yes, I stumbled across a brothel betwixt and between the street of Talbot, and the fair maiden doth giveth me a glance of her garments! For shame!

21:06 J*nathon: kwl

I don’t need a totem, Cobb, I have a massive dick instead.

Good day,

Conor

On a cheerier note, my birthday’s in a week. Nineteen. Weird. Old. I suppose it’s okay though because I still only look fifteen. Ideal birthday present? I really, really want a red beret.

For a first day though, it was pretty fucking lethal. I thought it would be all “Leaving Cert this.. 5-hours-of-study-a-night that”. But it wasn’t. There was the odd “I now look at you as adults so you better start behaving like it!” but that’s not bad… Well, apart from my psychotic, sadistic, kick-boxing champion maths teacher who seems to take the utmost pleasure in watching a class of 23 people squirm at his ever fucking word. His first words to us were “By the end of the year half of you won’t be here in this class… and a third of you will have left the school”. Oh thanks for that man. Really hyping me up for maths. Appreciate it.

Ok, sorry about that. Moving on. I met my Camomhnoir Class (Base Class, Tutor Group, whatever you want to call it) and they suck. They’re actually shit. Full of skangers and quiet people. And it’s not like I’ve never met these people. I’ve been in school with most of them for 3 years and have seen them about doing their horrible scum-baggy things. I have a good Caomhnoir though, Ms O’Hora (yes, lol at the name…). I’ve had her for geography for the past three years and I have her for it this year too so I’m proper buzzing off that one… Proper buzzing? What has gotten into me?

 In English class (I’m beginning to sound like @ronronzo here…), the first thing our new teacher said to us was “For homework-” everyone groans and mumbles “… I want you all to go out and see The Karate Kid”. Then I did it… Look, you all know how passionate I am about films, and how I have a dislike for money-grabbing remakes. I kinda blurted out “CAN WE GO SEE A BETTER FILM LOL”. Big mistake, Ian. He looked at me. “Better-” he croaked “is not the kind of work that goes down well in my english class.” FML. So he goes on to talk about why he wants us to see TKK and then he turns to me again: “What, in your eyes, is a better film?”

Did I need to think about that one? “INCEPTION!”

“And.. why is it better?” Oh no, he did not just ask me that question. Did I even need to answer?

“IT’S A REMAKE SIR. IT’S NOT ORIGINAL. HOLLYWOOD MONEY GRABBING DOES NOT APPEAL TO ME AS AN AVID CINEMA GOER AND FIND IT MORE IMPORTANT TO SEE NEW, RELEVANT FILMS RATHER THAN SILLY REHASHES”

Well, I said something along those lines, but it sounded much more stupid and confused and rushed. I regretted saying it and then he was like “What’s Inception about?” and I was sorta thrown off guard. Not only was the whole class staring at me (I didn’t know most of the people in it) but like, hasn’t he seen the trailer? In my head I was thinking ‘dreams and consciousness and perceptions of reality’ but what did I say? I said “TIME TRAVEL”

I mean, what happened to me? There is like, no mention of time travel in that film, so why did I say it!? And I’ve seen it three times! I don’t even know… I never melt under pressure and and now Conor Ryan won’t STFU saying “Hey Ian.. Time travel lol!”

It doesn’t end there (I know you’re well interested in this). He says to me “That’s not realistic” and obviously, I understood what he was doing. He knew it was a film and all that and that it doesn’t have to be realistic but I think he was trying to get to know me or whatever so I went on my ‘Cinema is not about realism, it’s often about escapism’ rant for a bit. After finishing he said to me “…you’re good”. My heart melted with teacher’s-pet joy.

He seemed to enjoy my rant anyway. You know how I know this? BECAUSE HE THEN CENTRED THE REST OF THE CLASS AROUND ME/THE RANT. He used my rant as an example of how, in English, you have to defend your opinions and have valid reasons for doing so. I actually felt so good. A teacher using one of my stupid movie rants to teach a class? He made my life right there… and he kept referencing me because he’d be like “… comparitive studies are about your-” looks at me “…opinions. And why you think a certain book or play is-” side glace across to me “…better than another.” Ah, I love him now.

But despite this, I now have extra homework. While the rest of the class has to write about the major themes in TKK, I must, on top of that, write about how another film conveys these themes in a better way. At least now all my useless film rambles will come in handy. I knew they would some day.

So yeah, I just posted this to remind myself of that boner I got from being the teacher’s pet… The joys of 5th Year.

1. Lost contact with people who I didn’t think would be so transient in my life. Then enough time passes to make any attempt at a frienassaince far too awkward.

2. Gotten sick at Oxegen. And looking like a swearing tit in the line for the bus home. Although both were out of my conscious control so I will make my peace.

3. Cried at the Coach and then subsequently blamed that crying on an inability to so Honours Maths. To this day, people from school still quote me “I…*sob* caaaaan’t… *sob* do… *sob* Maaaaaaaaths… *sob*”

4. Drank that much at Mardi Gras and disgraced myself in front of everyone I know, as well as my mom the next day. Classy bird, I am.

5. Allowed myself to get taken in.

6. Walked  from Bowling to the Dock Road on the night of the first Debs instead of taking a cab. Yes, my date had lost his coat. Yes, I was in too much pain to wear my shoes. And yes, it did start to rain. Buckets.

But I suppose all of this is character building. Regret nothing

Filed under: Blogging Tagged: 10 Day Challenge

Okay, here’s the thing. I’m a nerd. I’m a stickler for the rules. I worry about my friends breaking rules in case I somehow get blamed. I’m not one of those kids who don’t understand/refuse to understand the reasons behind the rules, because in my school, most of them make sense. No bullying, phones, mitching, hoodies or smoking? Cool. I get it.

I think you were right before. I think you did do this. You are always so phenomenally fucking miserable. I suffer from depression and I’m not half as bad as you are. I have Bad Days and I cry but I am nothing to how dreary and bleak you are every day of the week. Even when good things happen, you’re not happy. Unimpressed, indifferent. Cynical. Miserable. You could try to be happy. Try. And I am not one to suggest that true happiness is as easy as that, but I do think a lot of the warmth people have comes from wanting to be happy, you know? Not just wanting to be happy, but wanting and being willing to do something about it. If you adopt a positive attitude, things will get better. You can at least try.

That’s always people’s advice to me on my Bad Days. And it’s impossible to act upon. Cheer up. Think positive. Look at all the good things in your life. Not possible. Sorry. But on my Good Days, I try. I aim to look at things in a positive way, to look on the bright side. It could be worse. What harm! Everything happens for a reason. Maybe some of you reading this will think it’s bullshit, that it’s too idealistic an approach to life, but I sleep just fine at night and I’m happier for having a positive attitude. And sometimes I really do think it’s as simple as that: life is your attitude to it.

Roughly none of them did though, so the summer could have been a massive fail. Thank god for good clean fun though, because I really had the best summer of my life and I can’t express how grateful I am for that… but I’ll try.

It began with just random days out (documented in one of my now infamous picspam posts here) and all that jazz. I loved it all, and it was bling bling! Highlights included that first trip to the beach and seeing Cathy Davey sing Sing For Your Supper and Little Red at BioRhythm in the Science Gallery.

I loved it all, but there really was a feeling of something being unfulfilled. That’s the thing about expectations: Me and my friends had high ones and they weren’t met for ages (or at least it felt like that). The disappointment kicks in and you feel lazy and begin to hate yourself. Fair play to Lucy though, for always suggesting us things we could do.

I dunno what did it (probably the boredom), but after days of hoping for something to happen I copped myself on. I could have spent the rest of my days sitting around waiting for good times to pop through the computer screen or I could GTFO and do shit! I chose the latter… and that’s what flabbergasts me. Usually I’m the one who wants to stay in and do nothing. What can I say? I’ve changed… but it’s probably down to having better friends than I did this time last year. I didn’t let my expectations go down the drain, so I’m delighted with myself there!

So after the gaeltacht I was surprised at how busy I was. Me. Busy. For the first time in like, my life! Going into town, playing pool, going to the beach… Another brilliant episode was my trip with Roisín up to Rush to visit doze gaeltacht friends. We stayed over in their houses, went swimming, explored Rush (well, what there was to explore) and yeah, I really enjoyed that.

There was also a proper gaeltacht reunion which was such a chilled, enjoyable day… another highlight, I must say! Apart from me embarrassing the fuck out of myself with my “speech”. But whatever, it was good!

A strange, but brilliant trip to the beach with Lucy, Pierce and Eimear had put me off the idea of ever going again, but alas, I went to the beach with people from school twice after I.O. Those trips were probably some of the best days of the summer… even though I’m probably never going to be able to look those people in the eye again. It was the kinda thing you look back on and cringe, but also, the kinda thing that you can’t help but smile at. Bottom line: I’m a knacker.

nm nm just chubbin’…

Probably the main reason for my business was that I’m proper tight with Orla and she happened to be up in Dublin a lot. She’s introduced me to loads of her her friends from CTYI over the past year and this summer I spent lotsa time with them. I’m so grateful because they are some of the funniest/cleverest/best people I know. Many days were spent in town and it was mad craic altogether! And I wouldn’t have seen Miriam O’Callaghan on a bus if it wasn’t for Orla needing to go to Rathmines… that’s what friends are for, right? meeting seeing D-List celebrities? I saw Pyjama Girls also, met John Banville’s daughter and of course, DAT SLEEPOVER. I don’t even know.

Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I had the best summer ever and I love everyone and I want to do it all again and I didn’t do much of what I had planned but I made the most of it and I’ll never forget it and this is a long sentence and thank you so, so much to everyone.

Deep meaningful picture of fire is always a good way to end a blog post, ok? Dat kew wit you? Cool.