• personal,  so that happened

    Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder?

    Over the past few weeks I have found myself itching to write. I would set aside dates and times with the best of intentions, pencil them into my To Do Lists with a flourish, and then have them unceremoniously hijacked by other, more urgent and pressing matters. And so here we are. Six months into the year and I have a barren landscape of a blog behind me, untended and wild. All that’s missing is literary tumbleweed. It’s been a pretty busy year so far, actually. If I look behind me into that same barren wilderness of non-blogging, there are a few particularly notable bald patches where important events should…

  • so that happened,  Uncategorized

    The List of Uns

    Maya, my white-pawed, chronically grumpy cat, is not good in a crisis. She likes to play chase, but every time I chase her she panics, becomes paralysed by indecision, and finally runs into the nearest corner and flips onto her back. I’ve explained to her plenty of times that in the wild, this would really be seen as less of a survival strategy and more of a suicidal strategy, but no amount of practice has made her any better at evading fake predators. Every. single. time. she is chased, she does the same thing. You can see it happen. The pupils dilate, her eyes flick madly from side to side…

  • so that happened,  Uncategorized

    I Tried and I Failed

    It started with a gif. The girl in the clip lies flat on the floor with her hands clasped behind her, a long white pole looped between her arms and her lower back. Slowly she pulls her knees forward and then gracefully comes to a standing position with a big smile and a visible six-pack. The heading on this gif was “EVEN HARDER THAN IT LOOKS.” I watched it, rewatched it, and then with an arrogance borne of pure ignorance thought, “Well it doesn’t look that hard.” I watched the gif again. I read over the comments explaining that to do this correctly, the head, shoulders and pole must stay off the…

  • Thoughts on...,  Uncategorized

    Suspicious

    An ice-cream truck drives by my house almost every single day. I know this because I can hear it as it tinkles along. It plays a teeth-grindingly irritating melody that I could hum for you by heart if I were able to hold any semblance of a tune, and even when it’s raining out I still hear it, like I’m being haunted by a particularly obnoxious music box. Since nobody in their right mind is buying ’99s* in the Irish autumn, I have a theory about this ice-cream man: I think the ice-cream merchant is a drug dealer. Granted I have never seen him (unless he’s the man that wolf-whistled…

  • personal,  Thoughts on...,  Uncategorized

    “Traditional”

    It’s almost October. You know what that means. It means damp, russet leaves underfoot and a chill in the air like a whisper telling you to make vegetable soup. It means zipping up jackets and debating whether or not you need to wear a beanie. It means gratefully pulling on your Uggs on the way out the door because they have once again become borderline acceptable, like they do every year around the time Starbucks brings out the pumpkin spice latte. It means cold fingers and early dusk and thick, knitted jumpers that feel like inanimate hugs. I like Autumn, and I particularly like October. There is something magical about…

  • Thoughts on...

    Childish Things

    When I was a wee slip of a four year old, I remember visiting a friend and following him upstairs to a room that contained a giant cardboard box. It was long, and lay on its side, and easily took up at least half of all available floorspace in the small, book-lined room. In hindsight I suppose it had originally housed a fridge. My friend walked around to the back of the box and called for me to follow him. I remember looking at it with all the healthy skepticism a four year old can muster. It didn’t look like anything special. In fact, it looked like it might have…

  • so that happened

    The Best Things Come in Small Packages

    I have an unfortunate bedtime habit. It takes me what feels like twelve thousand years to get to sleep, and I would rather have my skin peeled from me in strips than lie in the dark with my thoughts, so instead I have a habit of propping my phone on its side and scrolling mindlessly through r/politics or the Aliexpress app on my phone until I fall asleep, one fingertip still pressed to the screen. (You might be able to guess where I’m going with this…) On more than one occasion I have woken up having purchased some truly ridiculous items are not in any way necessary to my life:…

  • Communication,  personal,  relationships

    “Relationships are Hard Work”

    “Relationships are hard work.” How many times would you say you’ve heard that phrase in your life? People say it to each other all the time; over coffee, over cocktails, in the middle of long, exasperated venting sessions and at the end of despairing exclamations. I’ve said it, and I’ve heard it, and every time there’s a nod of understanding and agreement, because it’s just vague enough to sound accurate. Recently though, I’ve come to realise that the phrase isn’t specific enough to be true. It’s a bit like when people say, “Well, sure we fight, but all couples fight.” I always nod. They both sound pretty straightforward, but the…

  • Life Skills Unlocked,  personal,  Uncategorized

    Life Skills Unlocked: Being a Girl

    I can still remember the exact moment when I decided that being a girl was bullshit. I had spent my first few formative years generally unfazed by gender roles. Sure, I had to wear horrendous dresses on special occasions, and that seemed unfair. My brother wore shirts and shorts and ran around like a loon while I wore dresses with collars that could have doubled as bibs and faced instant restrictions. “Don’t sit like that.” “Don’t get dirty.” “No, you can’t climb trees in a dress.” My best friend was a boy we’ll call P, and together we would spend afternoons watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and made dramatic explosion…

  • holiday,  Review,  so that happened,  travel

    Hamilton: The Experience

    We took our velvet-covered, straight-backed seats and looked around the auditorium. People streamed in the doorways, ribbons of colour; no narrow demographic here. They were young, old, white, black, businessmen in suits and ties, and purple-haired teenagers in leggings and grimy converse runners. A lady in her mid-fifties took the seat next to mine. A woman with an asymmetric pixie cut and severe black glasses sat in the row in front. I leaned back and enjoyed the slow wooden percussion of seats being pulled down, the rustle of people settling in, ready for the show. Behind us, a girl in her twenties bounced into her seat clutching a bag of…