• Life Skills Unlocked

    Life Skills Unlocked: Proper Etiquette

    Something happened last weekend that blew my mind: I realised that I have been eating incorrectly my entire life. But Quinn, I hear you say, if you have been managing to successfully manoeuvre food from your plate to your mouth for the past three decades, how can you possibly say you have been eating incorrectly? Well I’m glad you asked. When I was a small child, mealtimes were incredibly stressful affairs. There were a few reasons for this – including the fact that I went on a self-imposed hunger-strike for about two years at the age of six for reasons unknown – but one of the main reasons was that…

  • Thoughts on...

    Thoughts On… The Ring Thing

    So it turns out that when you get engaged, you wear a ring. Who knew, right?* It’s a whole thing. There’s the proposal, and all the things that come with that (champagne… lots of champagne), and then there’s the ring. Usually a shiny ring. Usually a shiny ring with a sparkly rock perched on top so that you can blind your enemies with some carefully-angled light reflection. While I was aware of all of this in a vague, theoretical sense, I hadn’t really thought about it. Like… ever. Of course I’ve been around other engaged people, and I’m not completely socially inept, so I have taken part in the customary, “Congratulations! Oooh your…

  • getting-engaged-wise-men-say-only-fools-rush-in-love
    so that happened

    Wise Men Say…

    There is one teeny, tiny thing I neglected to mention in all of my rambling about Mexico. I got engaged. We got engaged! There was an engagement? Basically, what I’m saying is that there was a very happily accepted proposal, and I know that makes it sound a little like a business deal, but in actual fact it was both completely unexpected and eerily perfect, and not at all like a business deal. More like a movie. Or a telenovela. I don’t talk about Scrubs much here because Scrubs is quite a private person, but we have been together for… a while. A long while. About eight years now. That…

  • Uncategorized

    Trying To Be More Like Trump

    So today I had a mad day. You know those mornings when you wake up tired and you basically feel like you’re playing catch-up for the rest of the day? I’ve had one of those days. Hence the late night blog post through eyes that are so bleary they feel like they might close of their own accord aaaaaaany minu- Where was I? Oh, right. I was talking about the day I’ve had and how tired I am. Well, yes. I just had cereal for dinner, which is a surefire sign that all is not as it should be; usually I love cooking dinner and making something – anything –…

  • Thoughts on ageing when do i get the manual
    Thoughts on...

    Thoughts On… Ageing

    I’ve dealt with confronting ageing in the same way I deal with confrontation in other areas of my life; I’ve avoided it like the plague. I like the age I am now. I don’t want to think about getting older. I don’t want to think about my body changing. I don’t want to think about liver spots and papery skin and dentures. Instead, I live in the moment. Or as other people might call it, ‘in denial‘. This mindset of pretending it’s-just-not-happening-and-I’ll-have-this-same-human-body-forever-and-I-will-always-be-capable-of-solo-dance-parties-in-my-kitchen-and-I-could-climb-Kilimanjaro-but-I-just-don’t-feel-like-it-right-this-minute has served me pretty well so far for an attitude that I realise is, frankly, unsustainable in the long-term. Up until this year, I didn’t use moisturiser with…

  • Life Skills Unlocked

    Life Skills Unlocked: Reading for Enjoyment

    When I was a child, I would read books to teleport out of my life. One moment I would be lying in bed staring at the white ceiling, anxiety clawing at my throat, and the next I would be visiting prickly Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, or laughing at Dogmatix and his fondness for trees. My introduction to reading was a steady and consistent diet of Beatrix Potter, Goscinny and Uderzo, Hergé, Roald Dahl, Dr. Seuss and Enid Blyton. I read compulsively, almost obsessively. As soon as I was able to read by myself, it became a fixation; whether we were out for a walk or it was after dark, I would have a…

  • Uncategorized

    AH. Yum. Yum.

    You know that ad with the tagline, “You’re not you when you’re hungry”? It’s a Snickers ad, I think. They main character has been acting irrationally, but thanks to the healing power of chocolate they shapeshift back to themselves after a single bite of a Snickers. You know the one? I identify strongly with that ad, only for me it’s, “You’re not you when you’re tired.” I am not me when I am tired. I become something else entirely, something strongly resembling a mogwai who has been fed after midnight, put under a spotlight and doused with a fireman’s hose for good measure. I become a gremlin. My face scrunches…

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    Motivation Hesitation

    I was at a party on Friday. I was at a party on Friday for fourteen hours. That’s a lot of hours to spend at a party. It affords you the time to talk to people, to get into conversations you might otherwise not have had. It’s more than enough time to get comfortable with the idea of introducing yourself to everybody there, because after three West Coast Coolers and every red and purple gummy frog from the jar I was hyped up on the kind of sugar high it takes days to come down from. I’m hardcore, I know. It was the best kind of party, bringing together a…

  • Thoughts on...

    Being a Bit of Both

    “Where are you from?” “Here.” “Where?” “Here. Dublin.” “No, but where are you really from?” “Dublin. I’m Irish.” “But where were you born?” “The Coombe. In Dublin.” “Okay but where are your parents from?” “My father’s Irish and my mother’s Spanish.” “I KNEW it!” I’ve had this conversation a truly astonishing number of times. Most of the time I save time and energy by answering the first “Where are you from?” with the answer to the question I know they will get to eventually. I know why they’re asking, and I know how to stem the conversational tide. A simple “My mother is Spanish” tends to trim the conversation nice…

  • so that happened

    Falling Half in Love with Strangers

    I love being able to express myself in writing. It feels more accurate somehow than speaking words. Talking for me can sometimes feel like playing tennis with a colander; I mean, it’s possible, I can do it, but it’s not ideal. The ball goes over the net, but just about. It goes where I want it to go… more or less. I can’t be sure it’ll hit it’s mark, but I can hope. Later, I’ll go home and think about how I could have done it some other, better way. Writing is different. Writing is a tennis racket. When I’m writing, I have the time to think about what I’m trying…