GlassesShop.com

GlassesShop is an online retailer of eyeglasses. Our visual needs are their first priority. 
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Under the spell of sleep my mobile phone awakens me around sunrise. I reach for it and hit snooze, barely reading the screen clearly, my heart sinking to the sound of that annoying bleep. It'll go off, again, in fifteen minutes and then I'll have no option but to ignore the lure of a cozy bed. Mornings are annoying.

I grumble. My first thought is, "I need a cigarette."

Before I even get up and drag myself to the bathroom I'll light one, sitting straight, under the comfort of a warm duvet. Today will be easier, more doable, not as difficult, once I get one into my system. The world won't be such a cruel place. Its weight will be tolerable. 


Kapow Meggings

Kapow Meggings believe human beings are built for self-expression, they’re here to give risk-takers the conversation starters they were born for.
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I watched the fireflies of thoughts orbit her head.

"Don't! People will see your bits," she spat.
"I can pair them with an oversized, baggy top," I shrugged and said sternly.
"My junk will not be on public display," reassuring her.
"It is still a bad idea. I dislike it when lads dress feminine," she fretted.

The backlash was fierce and predictable. This girl is not the type to mull over things. She is plain-spoken and unfiltered, painfully direct and prides herself on it. I appreciate brutal honestly, when it comes from a good place. With her, she's so kind-hearted I know there is never any spite or hate concealed. She continually shows me bluntness can be a strong, admirable asset, if applied correctly.

But I also don't like people telling me what I should be wearing, or doing.

And we are all culprits.



Noisy

"You're not good enough," they say.
"No one likes you really, people just put up with you." They enjoy corresponding with anger.
"Stop trying. You're attempting, as always, something far beyond your reach," they'll preach.

They are loud, aggressive, and overbearing. They like to proclaim their truth and stick it to me, whenever an opportunity arises. They love to dwell on my self-critical thoughts and often create bitterness and isolate me from others, even from beloved friends and family members. They walk with me everywhere. They'll stretch out their rugged hands and tug on my sleeve, robbing me of perspective. They petrify me.

Who are these bitches?

My insecurities.



Friendships

"I'll be there in forty minutes, ready to party," I said, and laughed. Eager as I was to reunite with a companion, ravenous for friendship.

"Cool! I can't wait to catch up properly," she replied. I had promised her a present and a card, I had them with me that night, along with kind words, it was her birthday and I was all set to celebrate the occasion.

I'd been battling manflu for four days, I was raspy, snuffly, wheezy, my nostrils were competing with each other for attention. I was confined to bed the day before, begging for mercy. But the night wasn't about me, so I grew a pair of balls and loaded a pack of tissues into my pocket to control the phlegm. I walked it to her gaff as I was too cheap to get a taxi. Shenanigans were to be had and I made sure to get there ahead of time. 


Orlando Pulse Shooting

I received the news late Sunday evening. I did not cry. No tears were forthcoming. I only breathed. And then I rooted my face in my pillow like an animal.

The feelings were all working away inside, like a pressure cooker, but I didn't have either the words or the spiritual strength to express them. I was empty, in shock, detached. I wanted to howl and howl and howl. I needed to cry, shriek, mourn the senseless loss of innocent lives, but I didn't, I couldn't. Initially these feelings simmered away, waiting to release themselves through normal expression, until, thwarted, they eventually boiled over, resulting in anger and confusion.




Jord Wood Watches

JORD make watches for people who don't just have somewhere to be, they have somewhere to go.
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When I was a young boy my hopes and dreams for the future were as follows: I wanted to be a social worker in the mornings, to share my passion for helping, to positively impact other people's lives that needed saving. I wanted to be an architect in the afternoons, the artistic embodiment of buildings and their creative outlet appealed to me. I wanted to be a global popstar at night time, because I really liked S Club 7.

I wanted a mansion with fourteen en-suite bedrooms, plus a holiday home in a tranquil, exotic location for breaks when I required them, because I'd obviously have the financial luxury and security to do so. I imagined living anywhere in the world but Ireland, that I'd be this protagonist who'd occasionally show up in his home town and still be loved by all. I wanted everything, and more. It sounds silly now, but these were attainable goals at the time. I revelled in the idea of the future and all of its possibilities. I was disillusioned, but what eight year old isn't?


Kim Kardasian: My Apologies

I take it you saw the selfie. The nude one. Well, the sort-of-nude one that bared-all behind two strategically placed black bars. The one that broke the internet, again. The one that led to lots of vocal backlash, critical comments and debates.

Mistakes are inevitable, it is how you respond to them that matters most. Y'see, over a year and a half ago, I wrote a whole blog-post disapproving of Kim's Paper Magazine shoot. And now slightly older and wiser I regret the things I said, and didn't say. I thought, at the time, that I raised some valid points, on reflection it was a series of low-blows. 

Armed with misplaced righteousness, I found myself, head first, in the middle of a clash between second and third wave feminists, caught up in this ongoing civil war when we are supposed to be fighting the patriarchy, not each other. I was unconsciously abhorring elements of male privilege and double standards. Where was my blog-post judging Tom Hardy, Justin Bieber or Adam Levine?


#JeSuisBruxelles

What's the first thing you do when you wake up? Hit the snooze button? Yawn? Go to the bathroom? Brush your teeth?

If you are like me, the answer is check social media. My smartphone has become my own pocketable personal computer. At the outset I tend to keep tabs with the world to see what is happening.

Last Tuesday was not a standard day. After checking into my connection tool I felt sick, dismayed, hollow inside. The Brussels attacks dominated my timeline, harrowing news reports consumed my screen, condolences were being shared and I stood in solidarity with the majority in condemning these outrageous, deadly, disgusting attacks against innocent people. I rolled out of bed that morning feeling like a gloomy version of myself, rightly shocked by the immense pain and suffering caused at Zaventem airport and on the city’s metro. In fact, almost two weeks later the victims of the bombings have remained fresh on my mind. 


Jurassic Galway

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Patrick has screwed up again. Normally, I don’t need to point this out. That’s what my father is there for. But this time the usual chorus of nagging cannot be overlooked because I've put the lives of multiple children at risk.

I'm always guarded against appearing dramatic, inconsiderate, arrogant, pathetic and any other trait that I consider inseparable from douchebaggery. It has now been confirmed though that I am all those things, and have viable evidence for securing my place in hell.



Out of Print

Out of Print is a literary apparel and accessory company that recognises how we read and experience literature continually changes. They aim to celebrate stories, so here's mine. 
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Growing up, or rather being grown up, in our generation is a bit of a scary proposition. Everything is so different than it was in the past. Between globalization, the internet, and the sheer desire so many have to go against the grain, it can be difficult to figure out how you actually fit in.

Feelings of anxiety or fear can trickle down from the mind to the body and wreak physical havoc from head to toe. The effects can be exhausting. The conflict between the inability to determine factors that are and are not controllable and the feeling of responsibility for total control is what produces apprehension. 

“Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.”

Chalk and Cheese

When people hear I have a twin, they are quick to get excited. Visions of Tia and Tamera in matching outfits flash before them. Like Mary-Kate and Ashley, people think you can't have one of us without the other. I often see the twinkle (or horror) in their eyes as they picture another man walking this planet that is just like me. Someone who speaks and thinks alike, images of two Patricks finishing each other's sentences spring to mind. Then comes the interrogation, it's usually the standard variation of questions you would expect.

I'll explain that my sister and I are fraternal, and if they happened to see us side by side, they probably wouldn't think we share any genes at all. Sometimes, I'll elaborate how we almost didn't even share a birthday, considering I was breech and close to midnight literally kicked her out of the womb a month premature. But I spare them all the gory details my mother takes pride in spewing, especially the part about us being blue. I'll point out that we aren't attached at the hip. 



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