56 Central - Something New

Take a minute to scan your surroundings. Are you in a familiar place or somewhere new? Stop reading this, and just look around you. Pick an object, maybe something you hadn't noticed before, and focus your attention on it. If you really focus, it'll get brighter and more 'real' than it was when it was just an unnoticed piece of the background noise of your life. Now, try to view your surroundings from the point of the object. Some people can do this with no effort, and for others it takes some concentration, you may notice a slight shift in your perception, a weird jump in reality. Where you are suddenly viewing the world from a different perspective.

Passing by 56 Central for example you might not be aware of the magic that lies inside. With countless restaurants and bistros down Shop Street, it's easy for a business to get lost in the cobbles. Venture inside though and you'll find an authentically vibrant, distinctive, and visually uplifting space, that's managed to capture the heart of Galway, even if for some outsiders it might have gone unnoticed. 

( Photo courtesy of Love Joules )

Branching Out

Tomorrow my younger sister starts her first day of college. It's a momentous step in her life.

She begins her own search in finding a new place to call home. It'll be a mixture of ups and downs, highs and lows. Hopefully she'll embrace them and they'll help enrich her life. She'll have more responsibility, I'm sure she'll exercise her new found freedom wisely and learn to find a balance. It is a significant transition and I'm proud of her. It's the start of a new phase, it'll bring up a range of emotions, it's pretty daunting but exciting too.

I know she will love it. The parties, the all-nighters, the sudden opportunities that will present themselves. It's a time of exploration. She's going to make a lot of new friends, some of which will be people she'll count on for the rest of her life. She'll find a group of mates who she can really talk to and not stress about fitting in with.



Weakest Link

Everyone of us feels some level of anxiety when we are made wait. In Supermarkets, we all jockey back and forth to the line we perceive is moving the fastest, easily getting frustrated when we choose the 'wrong' queue. When driving, we will swerve across multiple lanes of traffic to avoid the one with the biggest delay. Even in elevators we hate waiting so much that we will push the 'close door' button so often that those buttons are typically the ones most withered. Waiting rooms in medical practices though are a particular pet peeve of mine. And it's not the waiting itself that bugs me. My issue is with the place and the people.

Whenever I'm there it's generally packed to the rafters, frequently there's no available seating, and the magazines on display are often so dated that I need an archaeologist with gloves assisting me in flicking through one. Also, there's always some gobshite that seemingly cannot go anywhere without twelve to fifteen friends and family members attached via their umbilical cord. So imagine my mood yesterday, when I had to make a trip to my local clinic. 

( Picture via Thedogpaddler.com )
I wandered in and instantly eyes were staring, observing me from almost every direction. I came anticipating boredom and unease, but this was something I wasn't prepared to endure. Armed with my skinniest jeans and flaunting my most flamboyant oversized jumper, I stood out in the array of hopeless souls. My man bun refused to cooperate that morning, it didn't help the situation that my hair resembled devil horns on arrival. This was an extremely unnatural environment for anyone to be placed in.

The average age of the room was easily over sixty. Shuffling through the crowd I felt like I was one of the seven wonders of the world or some sort of character from The Ripley's Believe It or Not. The locals were looking at me like I was the Grand Canyon or had a third eye. One or two of the patients probably assumed Jim Henson created me. The only available chair was the one under the gonorrhoea pamphlets, which I accidentally picked up to read before realising what it was.

Once seated, I instantly felt a shiver down my spine. Various incarnations were still peering nervously at me. I saw a woman flinch as I bypassed her. With sideways glances I noted one man making a tutting noise and rolling his eyes in embarrassment. It was increasingly uncomfortable, feeling sensations of being watched made me get vertigo and goosebumps. I became conscious of how different I was to the rest of them, horribly different. The majority of the elders were terror stricken by my presence.

I have two piercings, they were examining me like I was a damn cheese grater, having holes all over my entire face. The woman beside me was acting like I had the Empire State Building shooting out of the side of my head. The same woman was one nut away from looking like Panti Bliss, so she should have kept quiet before I clocked her.

( Picture via DesignMom.com )
Waiting rooms are considered bright places, usually they have strong fluorescent lighting installed to illuminate the entire room. But this one was dark, with some of the back rows almost pitch black. Strange, inhuman sounds gravitated towards me from those rows every couple of minutes. I turned around at one stage to detect what the commotion was about and all I could see was big beaming eyes of a frantic nature glaring back at me. One man shined the light off his phone back there later on to try and secure a seat, I could hear people snarling at him, then scattering away weirdly to an even darker corner of the room. I rarely get scared, but at this point I felt real fear. Who were these people? Did that area enter the void? Was there another realm or portal in the same room as us? Maybe there was a decent WiFi connection back there?

What I noticed most is how incredibly annoying certain people can be when they are placed in a small space with strangers. One idiot had the television remote, guarding it like he earned the right to watch Animal Planet at an unsociable volume. If I ever have to listen to someone vividly narrating sexual intercourse between two orangutans again, I'm going to flip. There was another man chewing toffee so loudly that at first I assumed it was the sound generated from him readjusting his false teeth. The sweets he was eating were individually wrapped, every single wrapper had been thrown on the floor. The bin was two seats away from him.

The guy opposite me kept fidgeting, he was off-colour and continued scratching in a contagious manner until I got seen to. So although I'm safe for now, I'll probably be back there by early next week

May the odds be forever in my favour, I guess.  

( Picture via Pritchettcartoons.com )

___________________________________________


I've been shortlisted for both Best Lifestyle Blog and Best Youth Blog by this year's Blog Awards Ireland. I hate to hit ye with such a cliché but it genuinely was such a honour to even be nominated. A lot of my fellow nominees have far larger followings and greater fan bases than Loading Life so I don't expect to get any further, but regardless I'd like to thank anyone who has ever taken time out of their day to read my ramblings and musings. I blog fundamentally for myself, so to think that other people get enjoyment out of anything I've written remains quite surreal to me, it makes me very proud. It's nice to think that anything I've penned has helped pave understanding on a particular issue even slightly better for certain individuals and that the humour posts might have lightened up the dreariest of days for someone out there going through a tough time.   

The next round features a public vote, if you think I deserve a vote the link is attached above for both categorises. I'm not going to hound anyone for votes, that's not my style. In my opinion an award should be earned so only choose me if you feel I deserve it. Making the shortlist has made my month regardless.

Rent or Torment

My laptop has fallen victim to an untimely disease: old age. The poor soul to be taken too soon, has seen better days. Now near the end of its lifespan, it is only a matter of time before it takes its last breath and joins all my deceased Nokias and Tamagotchis that have gone before it. Maybe in its next life it could play to its strengths, and be reincarnated as a refrigerator.

Nowadays it is known to act up. The battery on it has already bid farewell to this cruel world, the hard drive has for all intents and purposes passed away, and the keys of the keyboard are so faded that I feel like I'm relearning the alphabet on a biweekly basis. It has lost all of its independence. It is like a spoilt, overindulged toddler these days needing constantly to be spoon-fed, consistently demanding what's left of my patience. I could realistically start applying for some assistance for it, a patch up job, but I've chosen to allow it go with some remaining integrity. Especially considering it has taken what's left of mine. 


( Picture via Kezj.com )
Lately, leaving it unattended results in a sea of pop up ads, the majority of them featuring a loud, phony pre-recorded sales pitch, explaining how simple it is for me to make millions if I surrender my credit card details immediately.

So, yesterday my landlord called for the rent. For the last two weeks I have been living by myself, with the Summer holidays almost over and the upcoming academic year due to start there has been a lot of reshuffling, each of my house-mates have one-by-one moved out, with new ones to come. He's aware of this.

He's one of those people that simply exude confidence, actively depicting someone that doesn't bear embarrassment and when/if he does it's just a minuscule bit detectable only to the human eye using a magnifying glass or fine-toothed comb. 


( Picture via Architecture.phillipmartin.info )
Just as I had the door opened, this loud fraud of an American started chanting all these repeated empty promises about an extravagant lifestyle of yachts, private islands and trophy wives for him to hear.

Landlord: "I'm here for the rent," he said sheepishly, not too bothered by the weird, slightly paranormal voices transcending from the living room.
Me: "Right, two seconds I have it left in the kitchen." Both my fingers, toes, and eyes crossed that he wouldn't notice the hysteria inside that was increasing in volume.

Landlord: "Are you home alone?"
Me: "Yep! I am," I gushed unconvincingly, handing him over the month's rent.

Pop up advert: "Are you poor? Are you failing to meet this month's bills? Today, right now, I am offering you an incredible chance to make a substantial amount of money with ease, there is no catch."

Me: "Thanks for calling, is that everything?" I said indignantly.
Landlord: "Do you mind if I see what you're watching in the living room?" He had every reason to believe I was hosting an Avon or Cash For Gold convention, on the sly.
Me: "Eh?" I blinked confusedly, trying to make sense of what he was talking about (at this point it is a possibility that I might have tried to mentally check out of the conversation to avoid further mortification.)

He then breezed past me, obviously one of those proprietors who believes that owning something allows complete access to every corner and fingerbreadth of the building, with or without my permission.

Landlord: "Is this a conference call?" He overstated, slightly startled. 
Me: "No, my laptop just does this sometimes." There was a 'businesswoman' consuming the screen wearing a push-up bra roughly two sizes too small for her. 
Landlord: "Oh, you're probably watching too much bad content on it."

I'm not a deluded man. I don't expect a future without further humiliation or embarrassment, but I also don't think it's unreasonable for me to hope that someday I can face an encounter with someone (who has the power to make me homeless) without the poisonous handiwork of my laptop getting involved. 

Clearly, I'm asking for too much. Maybe I should follow suit and raise the white flag too?


( Picture via Sodahead.com )


Mouse Trap

This post comes live from the eye of the storm. A dark, dreary, vicious storm. Okay, Galway may not be in the midst of hurricane Catriona, and maybe we might have been enjoying a slight good spell the last few days. Little snippets of sunshine and clear skies are active, it's a forecast Evelyn Cusack would be proud to announce to the nation.

I'm referring to a mental storm as currently I am in agony. I am curled up into the foetal position, swaddled tightly in a blanket, lying awkwardly on top of my unmade bed. I'm typing this post with one hand and sucking my thumb with the other, fighting back tears, rocking myself steadily back and forth seeking comfort after surviving a major panic attack roughly half an hour ago.

Yes, everything is very severe, crazy and dramatic but my day didn't start like this, it started off fine. I got up early, I had a shower, and I made breakfast (always a bonus). Just your typical run-of-the-mill sort of day. Hardcore normality. Until it came to my attention that I had an intruder. Someone sneaked into my home uninvited. I made this discovery just after finishing my breakfast. The invasion at least had the courtesy to wait until I had devoured my Corn Flakes.


( Picture via It.wikihow.com )
I saw a mouse, it paraded across my kitchen like it was someone contributing rent. I was in shock. We made eye contact, and for a nanosecond the world stood still. I saw the fear in its eyes, and it saw the fear in mine. Then I scurried like the vermin I am directly out of the kitchen and up the stairs into the safe confinements of my bedroom. I locked the door, and started playing music loudly to let it know I was somewhat still present.  

Slightly mellow dramatic, I know. But these rodents are crafty and if it thought I had vacated the building it would start getting comfortable. It could start inviting friends, family members, half-cousins into the premises too. The television is left on downstairs, that bastard better not dare clock up my electricity bill, I know how addictive a marathon of Friends can get. So I need to make my nervous, hysterical presence known.

My house-mate is due home in two hours, but I don't think I can last that long. I don't know how to assess blood pressure, but I feel like mine is dropping fast, and within the next hour I could need to use the bathroom.


 ( Picture via Izamgs.com )
I've considered phoning emergency services. The fire brigade or some armed officers could intimidate this entity out of my life for good. They'd only need one bullet or a slice of cheese, it wouldn't be much hassle. But realistically what will they think of me? They'll judge me, even though we have these services for our own protection and well-being and it's my right to use them as I see fit.

The oxygen levels in this room are dropping and the longer I spend isolated the greater the chance I'll start developing agoraphobia. Then I might never end up leaving my room. I'm getting weaker and that thing downstairs is no doubt getting stronger, it's probably impervious to pain.

The times are confusing and certainties are hard to come by. Light a candle for me, keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'll try and ride out this torturous ordeal until four. Admire my courage and strength. Speak highly of me to others. Heroes as I said last week come in all shapes and forms, just maybe not as little fury, taunting, wide-eyed, rodents.

#HopeForPatrick


( Picture via Thesun.co.uk )

Caitlyn Jenner: My Thoughts

Everywhere you turn these days, the Kardashian family are making headlines and their ever-expanding empire shows no signs of slowing down. Maybe it's because we've entered into an era where 'fame' has far less to do with real merit or genuine talent and far more to do with tabloid scandal and reality television series. Maybe it's because humanity has gradually peaked and this is what we are left with. I've never been a huge lover of their glorified brand, but I've never been a hater either, it has always been a case of indifference for me until recently when Caitlyn Jenner entered the public eye.

There's probably a few people reading this thinking I'm just a sell out, jumping on the bandwagon of the latest hot topic to get views and readers but Caitlyn and her story is no longer news, this has been happening for some time now, with the Vanity Fair cover, the Diane Sawyer television interview and the awards speech, this revelation has been going on for months.

( Photo via Superfame.com )
Biologically we are all assigned a certain sex at birth, that's something we have zero control over but that does not mean you identify with that particular gender. This post is not going to delve much deeper into the nitty gritty essentials than that. Mainly because I spoke briefly about this before. What I intend to write about is that although the public's response has been largely positive and accepting, it has bothered me how insensitive and analytical some have become when discussing Caitlyn's appearance and more importantly, her body.

Negative body image of women has always been strong in the media, unfortunately that doesn't look likely to change any time soon. Feminine beauty and what a person should or could look like in marketing and advertising in particular is a controversial issue and a huge problem, Caitlyn was never going to escape it. But name one other female celebrity that has to endure constant scrutinisation and speculation over her genitalia and her most personal body parts? And worse for people to find they're perfectly entitled to enquire and question it.

It's this trans objectification that I really dislike. This is someone's private information and I don't see why it's anybody's right to talk about. Why should you or anyone care what these men and women do to their genitalia? I was in McDonald's the other day and two teenage girls were loudly discussing graphically the bodily transitioning she's likely to have encountered for the whole restaurant to hear. People are obsessed with the physical process and aspect of the transition, fixated almost. Your anatomy has very little to do with your gender identity. Viewing the trans community as objects, freak shows, walking science experiments and not real people with personalities and feelings is heartless and insensitive. Every human being deserves respect and their personal privacy, no matter how famous they are. 

( Photo via YouTube.com )
I get that understanding something paves the way for acceptance but this angle people tend to be focussing on is only a small, small part of a person's transition, and with all the unemployment, suicides, homelessness, that particular community experience there's so much more meaningful issues to talk about. 

We need to move towards acceptance of females with male genitals and males with female genitals, instead of seeing all these surgeries as the answer. Perhaps a lot of gender dysphoria is more of a reaction to society's gender binary than anything else. A woman can have a penis and vice versa.

Don't misinterpret me, I firmly believe people have every right to alter their bodies as they please. Especially if doing so will improve their psychological well-being and self-esteem. I do not and will not agree with any movement that denounces people for this. What I am against is the insistence that in order to be a true woman you have to do hormone therapy and undergo sex reassignment surgery. You can be a woman either way. Everyone is an autonomous human being. I realise that sounds extremely obnoxious coming from a twenty-two year old man, but it's my opinion nonetheless.

We need to change laws in many places that specifically require that surgery to actually legally be that gender. Your mind, your brain tells you what you are. There are many people in the trans community that have no desire for SRS. You have the right to your own body, so if the surgery doesn't suit certain individuals, it doesn't suit them, case closed.

( Photo via Insideedition.com ) 
Lastly, there's been the issue labelling Caitlyn a hero. Obviously people who fight on the front line are heroes and there's no denying that but it's important to note heroes come in many shapes and forms. A mother can be a hero, a cancer survivor can be a hero, a kid who sits and talks to a lonely class-mate in the canteen is probably a hero, a singer-songwriter who makes a girl with depression realise that things will get better is a hero. The title is subjective, everyone is inspired and empowered differently.

Her courageous story reminds people that it's never too late to become who you truly are, and that's pretty damn heroic to me. With everything she's gone through she's proven that you have only got one life to live, and how important it is to make sure it's the best one for you. Imagine all the young transgender boys and girls currently suffering that she's providing hope for? Overcoming all this widespread judgement and ignorance is doing a lot of good. Her bravery to face the world and its criticism is saving lives, that is a fact, whether you agree with it or not.

In every aspect of life it is necessary to listen, learn and educate yourself. Today, I want to challenge you to expand your idea of what gender truly is.

( Photo via Vanityfair.com )

Searching for Trouble

When I'm not busy saving orphans from burning buildings or saving buildings from flaming orphans, I check the statistics tab of my blogger account to see what keywords people type into Google to find my blog. Monitoring where my web traffic comes from is kind of like watching paint dry, only without the sense of accomplishment or artificial high from paint fumes.

Blogger has revealed all sorts of interesting facts about the people who read this website. For example, every person who has viewed this blog has internet access and is not currently of the Amish persuasion. It also tracks the location of visitors, so I know that I get hits from such exotic locations as county Leitrim and other parts of rural Mayo. Yesterday, however, I got my first visit from Saudi Arabia, and a few weeks ago I got a hit from Tehran. American diplomats mistakenly believe that Iranians want to destroy the western world, when in reality they just want to know if Irish students enjoy the same music as them and if I plan to discontinue a trend of posts featuring my parents embarrassing me at every given opportunity. 


( Picture via Capitalbay.com )

Here are some of my favourites.  

'kim kardashian naked' This speaks volumes for my page and its visitors. Not only is one of my most popular search items crude, creepy and indecent, the inquirer is arriving disappointed. They're not even reading whatever nonsense I have to spew instead here solely to find a photograph that I do not own myself or have copyrighted appropriately. Integrity is overrated, or so I've been told. 

'milky bar kid now' It is one of life's greatest mysteries, and considering this blog used to be called Retired Milky-Bar Kid, it makes sense. We've all been there. At some stage you have questioned whether the Calvita Cheese Girl is still in such high-spirits with life/dairy products, if the lass from the Christmas Corn Flakes ad is still actively waking up in the middle of the night to search for random old men to appear in her living room and if the Kinder Chocolate Boy still has those immaculate set of teeth after countless chocolate bars. The wonder and unknown continues.  

'cheap turf for sale in boglands' Awh, apologies to disappoint but I only wrote about my participation there as a child. I don't sell anything on the internet, unless you count my dignity via the optimum of embarrassing, unneeded blog posts.

'how to successfully lie to parents' No comment. I'll just leave this here

'are cat biscuits edible?' Hey! Curiosity killed the (ahem). Yes, in theory they are, if you are a feline animal. But I'm still confident in the knowledge that cats cannot use the internet (staring in viral YouTube videos does not count) and so I'm going to assume you are a human being or a spam robot. No, they're realistically not. My mother and I speak from experience. But each to their own. 

'fat woman exercising' I give up. People are weird. 


( Picture via 360east.com )


We Made History

Following the success of last week's post OutWest contacted me wondering if I would be interested in writing a guest author piece for them discussing how I was before the vote and how I feel now that it has passed. OutWest is a voluntary social and support group for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people in the West of Ireland, they do extraordinary work so obviously I was delighted to help out. Plus I'm one always happy to give my two cents on anything, you should all know that by now. Below is the said article.   


                                       ___________________________________________

Life is a journey filled with lessons, hardships, heartaches, celebrations and special moments that will ultimately lead us to our destination and purpose. Over the past few months with the marriage referendum approaching I went through my own personal journey. An emotional roller coaster that I plan to share briefly today. This is being done to allow people really grasp how grateful and appreciative I am of the end result and the support witnessed in passing Amendment 34.

Back when polling day felt almost like a different era light-years away, I was quite angry and annoyed with the whole situation. Resentful, I didn't want to acknowledge what our nation was set to face. I understood because of the design of the Irish constitution a referendum was needed (I'm aware of how constitutional change works, for the record I know we're not run by a backwards state and it's great that the people have so much power and control) but I still found it humiliating. We were putting the concept of equal recognition to public vote, whether two people who love each other could marry was up for argument.

( Photo via Cnbc.com )
Throughout the 'debate' we heard a lot about maintaining 'balance'. National broadcasters couldn't show bias, viewpoints had to be expressed equally and upholding neutrality was essential. I took issue with this, mainly because I felt providing exposure to a side that disfavoured the notion of an entire minority of people receiving the same support, kindness and respect as others a bitter pill to swallow. Young LGBT youths are already overly conscious of disapproval, so to see this sort of negative behaviour being tolerated and endorsed on television, on signposts, on streets, through letterboxes was in my opinion causing so much unneeded anxiousness, further confusion and despair.  

I had built up this wall of resentment towards this referendum, a guard that I eventually let down.

( Photo via Change.org )
Guilt then stumbled onto the scene. Was I doing enough? Could I in any way be more productive? Seeing canvassers out advocating on doorsteps, being exposed to abuse yet still upholding nobility and persevering. Having people and businesses vocalising their passion and enthusiasm for equality on social media. The amount of Yes campaigners who sacrificed their privacy to tell people what it meant to them. The bulk of voters who flew home from all over the world to play their part. It became easy for me to doubt my place.

In the end I became overpowered with pride and honour. There's the old saying, you can't teach an old dog new tricks but the speed of transformations in social attitudes we saw was phenomenal. It fast became a social movement. A small religious, socially conservative country had adapted to modern times. This wasn't solely a victory for the young and free spirited, older generations spoke up and were heard. I didn't expect it to be overall that magical or that inspiring, but it was. I went through a self-discovery, and as dramatic as it sounds experienced a lot of soul-searching. The breath and scale of the Yes vote will hopefully continue to stand to me and many others. 

( Photo via Thejournal.ie )
In the end I learned this referendum was important because it helped create acceptance and normalise the LGBT community within society. It reignited momentum, it had a context and became a subject worth talking about and no longer something to just shut down. It showcased how dark the clouds over homophobia are. It helped develop empathy and understanding. The funny thing is in years to come we'll probably appreciate the true extent of what we went through more. The whole experience was very humbling and exhilarating. We reached a step closer to the day when homophobia becomes synonymous with ignorance.

In life you go through many journeys, this for me was one of them. I've learned the road will not always be smooth, in fact throughout our travels we will encounter many challenges and obstacles. But right now after the last few months especially I've realised it's important to just enjoy the ride. 

( Photo via Metro.co.uk )

Make Grá the Law

It's half six in the morning and I cannot sleep. In half an hour's time the polling stations will open and Ireland will have the opportunity to vote for equality, in the marriage referendum. I genuinely wasn't planning on addressing anything online concerning this debate. I will explain why again, but today, right now I feel helpless and my urge to write has never been stronger. 

This post is not going to bombard you with constitutional acts or in-depth legislation reports. I'm not going to rhyme off a collection of statistics, polls or surveys in the hope of making you realise the seriousness of this topic. I will not mention or retaliate against anything the No campaign have brought forward or said, despite how much it might have denigrated, offended and upset me or others. 

This is just one person speaking to another. Because I feel that's almost being lost in the sea of abstract arguments and television debates that have overwhelmed us the last few weeks. My personal testimony isn't intended as a desperate, final attempt pity party, the last thing I want is your sympathy. I'm writing this to give people a small insight into what it's like to be an LGBTQ person in Ireland without equal rights and why as a result this referendum is so important.

 ( Photo via Yesequality.ie )
I was born in the maternity unit of Ealing General Hospital, West London on 7 January 1993. I was born with a fraternal older twin sister who arrived thirty-five minutes before me. I was born with bright blue eyes. I was born with two loving, eager but petrified first time parents. I was born with a streak of blonde hair. And I believe I was born gay.

From the offset society's expectations for me were very different, when you see a newborn baby boy lying in a bassinet in the maternity ward you don't ask the parents at what age do you think he'll come out or what do you think his first boyfriend will be like? From a young age I always knew deep down that I was different. When I was seven I wanted to play Barbies with my sisters and by eleven we had already started creating our own synchronised S Club 7 dance moves to showcase at parties. Back then I obviously had no idea over the impact my sexuality would have over my life. 

Coming into my early teen years I started questioning myself, at first assuming that everybody had these thoughts and it wasn't something to be spoken about, that it would eventually go away. But of course, it didn't. The shame, the fear, the panic soon began to consume me and dictate my life. Secrecy, insecurity, loneliness became my own self-inflicted punishment for thinking all these wrong, abnormal thoughts. I became obsessed with lying to myself. Tormented with self-hatred and conditioning myself into thinking that I was straight. Self-censoring, repressing fundamental aspects of my personality and who I was. Refusing to let those around me get to know me. It was a weight that eventually took its toll. I was sick of constantly battling with myself. I struggled for years against being gay, I didn't want to be different, I didn't want to be the object of ridicule and scorn. I was terrified of what lied ahead.

The everyday sneers, disgust and discrimination is something the LGBTQ community can relate to and identify with. People who wouldn't even know you, having personal discomfort with who you are. Belittling your entire existence. Who chooses to live a life full of risks, consequences, uncertainty and danger? Not having the same privileges as others. Having strangers actively campaign against your rights as a human being. Consistently dealing with confused glances and murmured whispers from onlookers. Being a form of amusement for groups of rambling teenagers or late night drunks. Being a target of abuse

 ( Photo via Broadsheet.ie )
This is only a small part of my story, throughout the world there's many others growing up in similar circumstances. Feeling less than their peers, living in fear of rejection, not only from the public but from family members, friends and loved ones. People enduring sleepless nights, experiencing relentless hardships. Exhausted from holding back with every ounce of strength who they truly are, unwilling, unable to accept themselves. A life of second-guessing and hesitation is all they know. Some of these LGBTQ youths have absolutely no one to confide in their loneliness. It destroys lives. 

Today, I love who I am and I'm so proud to be gay. It's taken me twenty-one years to learn to overcome my demons and reach this stage of acceptance. Everyone in life has various dreams and ambitions, but we all share one true desire, the thought of falling in love. Everyone deserves that chance. These hopes and aspirations are no different. An equal Ireland will be the start of a legacy for all those little boys and girls who are currently teased, who are afraid, who can't express themselves freely yet and don't even realise that they are allowed go against the grain to embrace their true selves.  

With this referendum the future of so many young people is at stake. In a world infused with homophobia today is a beacon of hope for so many. Please not only make the right choice but let people finally live their lives openly, fearlessly and proudly. A Yes vote carries a message to love and be supportive of all, regardless of the circumstances. I know we each have that power inside of us, but sometimes we all just need that extra push. 

 (Photo via Irishexaminer.ie )

Shop 'Til You Drop

I'm the sort of customer fixated on deals and discounts. The bigger the price cut, the more tempting a purchase something becomes and this regularly causes me to buy things that I don't truly love. You could be selling me limited edition onion goggles, if they are advertised with dramatically marked-down rates I'll be drawn in. I can't help it, it's a rush, an addictive quality.

Being a sale-obsessed shopper, giant reductions and clearance racks make me feel competent and in control of my compulsive overspending. It helps me rationalize a situation that leaves me drowning in debt and living on supermarket brand noodles.

(Photo via Newcircles.ca)
This week I was out bargain hunting, when I came across a pair of Vans reduced to a fifth of the typical retail price. They were a size and a half too small for me, but that didn't matter as they were cool, affordable and had a quirky design. A deal as beautiful as that was just too good to pass up so I did what I thought was the sensible thing and bought them, then continued on browsing.

I wore them the following morning. I knew it was going to be a struggle breaking them in. I miscalculated the intensity of that struggle. They were excruciatingly painful, almost unendurable. I thought at first I lost a toe. It was like an Asian foot binding master class, this discovery came when I was too late for work to turn back and change. I usually walk everywhere, for some strange reason I enjoy the exercise. Headphones in, parading through the streets of Galway pretending to me a member of Haim can be quite rewarding. Today wasn't a day for that, so I took the shuttle-bus in the midst of the morning rush hour.

I waddled onto the overloaded vehicle, throbbing in pain, blisters probably already formed. Tears visible, I was challenging my best Rylan Clark at bootcamp. A woman gave up her seat for me, assuming I had some sort of disability or podiatric disorder. I should have refused, but I got sucked into the moment and clarifying my appearance in front of all those restricted, cramped, distressed passengers could've got weird. 

(Photo via Lisasee.com)
Later that day I was stuck in a ridiculously long queue at the supermarket. A second member of staff was called over the intercom to help cut down the line of impatient buyers. Three men stood ahead of me, yet when the cashier came she offered to serve me first, I refused but everyone else insisted while simultaneously looking out for my carer and wheelchair. I kept quiet again and was given a complimentary shopping bag, maybe Dunnes Stores do have a heart.

I've always been overly courageous when crossing the road, involuntarily disregarding pedestrian crosses is something I really need to work on. This erratic behaviour usually provokes drivers and they're happy to unleash that anger and frustration in my direction. That day vehicles slowed down to allow me cross the road safely. I think I even saw a woman bless herself when I passed by her car.

I won't be wearing the shoes again, hip replacement surgery would be less physically agonizing. Dignity aside, I really appreciated my day's unexpected enhancements. This time, this reduction devotee got more than what he bargained for.

(Photo via Express.co.uk)

Big Jeans To Fill

Like it or not, we all inherit certain traits and characteristics from our parents. Not to contradict anything I've previously written, this isn't about physical attributes such as eye colour or height but features or quirks down to personality and behavioural habits. Your upbringing and environment is a major part of your heredity. Twerking and foam fingers aside there's a reason why Miley Cyrus can hold a tune and why at twenty-two months North West has probably already mastered the art of a selfie.  

On Sunday my family and I headed out for dinner, it's not often all six of us get the chance to do things together, restricted schedules or stringent sanity measures, you figure. It was nice, we got all dressed up and had the opportunity to appreciate each other's company outside the wonders of our living room. Talking about topics and occurrences that didn't revolve around the television guide was a breath of fresh air. 

(Photo via Shareabite.com)
The restaurant we ventured to was top-notch and well known for its tasty, good-tasting menu. On account of this we were sensible and each knew to be ready in both body and mind. That day we took it easy and refrained from eating too much, saving ourselves for what lied ahead. The preparation could be compared to those training for a marathon. 

Our reservation was for eight o'clock, for once we got there on time and found our table with ease. The staff were all very welcoming, they took our orders and brought us our drinks. It was a proud moment, no hiccups, no fighting, no spillages, no temper tantrums.

(Photo via Pixgood.com)
The food came together and lived up to the hype, we all have different taste levels so there was a real mix of dishes presented to us. Plates of Thai Curry, Sirloin Steak, sizzling Stir-Fry, Steamed Vegetables, Marinated Chicken, you get the picture.

And then it started, the humiliation that seems to shadow me continually at every moment and turn.

Father: "Well you'd know ye are all Kirranes."
Me: "Really?" 
Father: "Look at ye, all mad for food, like a bunch of cattle at a trough."
Me: "Right."
Father: "It's in our blood, my side of the family can always handle a feed."
Mother: "Mine too."
Sister: "Anyway better not keep talking." Mortified, she intended on diverting their attention instantly.
Father: "Waitress, you needn't worry about throwing any of this out, this lot are known at home for licking the plates clean, great grazing in them."
Waitress: "Happy to hear." Maintaining grace through tears of laughter. 
Father: "There's no need for a dog living with these."
Mother: "God bless our fine appetites."
Father: "Waitress, could you bring us down another side of Onion Rings? To keep these happy."

Forever the optimist I was hoping to possess some dominant leadership skills or nurturing expertise at some stage down the line. I could have developed an athletic scope or creative flair, it would have been pretty useful but no my siblings and I are praised food connoisseurs and it's going to be hard to forget it. 

It appears that we get this quality from both parents. Well played Padraic and Kathy Kirrane, well played. 

(Photo via Tavel.usnews.com)

What Defines Success?

Last Tuesday I dealt with a rather unpleasant customer. Throughout the years I've had my fair share of general idiots and I've always coped with their mindlessness with a pinch of salt, a cool manner and a smile. Between the grumpy pensioners, hot-tempered parents, irritating young couples, giddy hyperactive children, screaming babies, holiday makers it's been tough but I've managed like everyone else does, but last Tuesday this one particular gentleman got to me and the weird thing is he probably doesn't even know it. 

I've mentioned before that I currently work part-time as a receptionist, to support myself through college. It's fine, I like my job and for the most part the people are all great. I'm not the first student to be gainfully employed and I won't be the last. On Tuesday this man was perhaps the inquisitive kind, as he took it upon himself to ask me four million and one questions, none of them relating to my job description or down to curiosity but with the intention of patronizing, criticizing and condescending me. Through all the sneering I politely answered all his queries, explaining vaguely my current situation, I didn't have to, but I did. The encounter finished up with him informing me how fortunate I was to not have to work in my current position for the rest of my life, because how I earn my money seemingly needs to be validated by him or anyone else.


(Photo via Liveluvcreate.com)
I don't understand how anyone can be so stuck up and degrading to people who work in these 'unskilled' careers. Thinking we have failed at life or that haven't achieved enough to be anything else. People judging what they deem 'success' on other people. My goal is just to continue being the best possible me I can be and everything else should hopefully work itself out. All I want to be in life is happy, if I'm happy I'm fine, I don't give a shit what I do.

My aunt cleans toilets for a living and she's one of the most upbeat, joyous, elated women I know because she's content doing it. I've done it myself for five solid summers, and although many might curl up into the fetal position at the sheer thought, it wasn't half bad. She for one doesn't need some bullshit title or career to boost her ego, she doesn't feel inferior or insecure in what she's doing, so why should it matter to anyone else, she has nothing to prove to anyone.

One of the most valuable traits a person can have is self-reflection, because if you don't have an ounce of self-reflection, nothing is going to absorb you, like stainless steel. If you're incapable of looking inwards, planting a seed and mastering life experience then you're not as on top as things as you make out. 

As RuPaul says, only Judy can judge me. (Photo via www.cinemablend.com)

Sidetracking slightly but while on this topic, I've noticed especially with teenagers and young adults nowadays there is an unhealthy sense of entitlement, an arrogance or pomposity. You really have to keep yourself in check all the time. Certain people who've been told they're royalty since they were five years old, their entire life they've been placed on this pedestal celebrating how great they are. It's worrying me that people like these won't be able to process that their specific college route that typically extends onto an automatic career path isn't a universal norm, it's a privilege not everyone is lucky enough to have or even want. The bright kid at school who isn't pursuing third level straight away has other factors in their life to consider, not everyone's trail is so clear, there's many obstacles people cannot control. Failure isn't a word that should be applied to human beings.

I've been praised in the past for my patience, but I have no sympathy or tolerance for people that have everything and act like idiots, because if you don't understand gratitude I'm out.

Success in life requires happiness, if accountants, solicitors, doctors are judging people for whatever reason it means they're not fulfilled with their own lives. A person should and can only be defined by their character.

I'm going to have to start quoting John Lennon more often it seems. 

(Photo via Tweeka.deviantart.com)

Dolce & Gabbana: Off-Trend?

We are fortunate enough to be living in a somewhat liberal age and society. People for the most part are allowed to develop their own lifestyles and express themselves freely without a great deal of censorship or restraint. But sometimes this can create problems, not everyone is as free-spirited as you would hope. 

A week or so ago legendary Italian fashion designers Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana's controversial comments opposing in vitro fertilisation, surrogacy and same sex parenting lit up a tense worldwide debate. Dolce's choice of words in particular caused huge offence, after he stated "I'm not convinced by what I call chemical children, synthetic babies."

(Photo via Swide.com)
Clearly Dolce & Gabbana have upset a lot of people, considering they are both openly gay men themselves it's being seen as an act of betrayal. Obviously, I don't support their views, but I support the fact that they have the right to comment. It's important people realise everyone is entitled to their own opinion, be it good or bad. How an individual expresses it is equally as important. You can get your point across without doing it in a hurtful, nasty way. 

I believe a person's identity is not determined by his/her parents, it's who you are not where you came from. A father is not a man who donates sperm and a mother is not a woman who donates her eggs, a parent is the person who raises you, loves you unconditionally and is there for you when it matters. Genes are irrelevant. I respect that certain people in this world feel genetic heritage is a fundamental right and nature will always dictate that every human being came from a father and a mother. But I really think society it to blame here for wronging donor children and placing this unneeded emphasis on biological importance, family is not to be defined by blood, it is defined by love.

 (Photo via Indiatoday.intoday.in) 
My only real criticism is that I found Dolce's comment on 'synthetic' babies particularly patronizing. Each child is a blessing, God or nature still has a helping hand in everything brought into this earth, it's ignorant to think otherwise. Technology and science is still not the sole source or provider. All babies have a heart and soul, we're not talking about material items or commodities, these are real life human beings, to label them as anything less than that is disgusting. The reality is IVF is a miracle that has allowed loving people throughout the world both gay and straight to fulfil their dream of having children and becoming parents, to dismiss assisted reproduction and its endless benefits is crazy. The gift of life is special and is always going to continue to be a gift regardless of the circumstances. 

Celebrities such as Elton John and Madonna are now campaigning for a global boycott of the fashion-house. But what's the purpose of this? They themselves have tarnished their own brand a great deal. The damage is already done. We all have different viewpoints and every right to be different in those views. The entire concept of free-speech is to be open and not so intolerant of different opinions. Trying to destroy or ruin a brand just for the sake of it just doesn't seem right.

I've never been able to afford their clothing up to now so it's no great loss on my part, I just hope this recent war of words opens up people's minds a bit more and allows them to see past their own values.

(Photo via Cpp-luxury.com)

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