School's Out

Saturday, November 10, 2018

"NO!" I objected, spinning a face at the phone screen, thrusting the vacant hand, not holding the Apple device, in the air.

"No, no, no, no! She does not get to do this," I continued in an non-negotiable manner, my jaw agape in astonishment, the veins popping out of my neck.

"How dare she," I raged.

I tried to gather my thoughts, grasping for the right words inside the swirling cloud of frustration, confusion and anger in my mind. I wanted to unzip my skin and climb out of my body and into oblivion.

The woman, seated five rows in front of me, turned around and threw me the skank-eye making a point of my ill-advised subtlety. My tantrum was audible even from her end of the bus.

I had received an email from a girl I knew at school. The group she led treated me horribly for five years and, to put it simply, we were never friends. She had written to me in much the same blithe, joyous way as a child eats an orange to say she was now an advertising manager for an impressive company, running a campaign for a brand and wondered if I'd be willing to collaborate with for her on a particular project.

Loose Ends

Sunday, September 09, 2018

Hey, hey! You, you!

Everyone has some shitty secret, some melodrama. Let out the avalanche of grief and emotion.

You've woken a web of deceit for too long and you cannot just excuse yourself from this conversation. It is important. Tell me about a time in your life where you want to press delete. Don't let numbness envelope you. Share how you were stung!

Did your history teacher like you a bit too much? Are you not over your parents' divorce? Did one of your best friends have sex with you and then not talk to you again? Maybe your siblings didn't hug you enough? Were you a doormat for an ex? Did someone's life expand and they didn't make room for you?

1 comment Lifestyle

Poker Face

Saturday, April 21, 2018

The waitress was scraping plates sadly into the bin. She seemed bored as she had no customers to attend to, for her it was going to be a long night.

A petite girl with tiny eyes and sharp features began to devour her basket of food, occasionally looking up from her phone she was immersed in. At another four-person table, one individual was sat with a sour look on his face, he wasn't alone though, two large burgers were there to keep him company.

The windows were fogged with steam and breath. After seeing a mediocre film, we were sharing a cosy fondue.

''I'm using this app where you like or dislike different users, and can chat with them, then, if you both match,'' I said.

Her eyes popped. "I actually know this one!"

She pointed at me. "Bidder!”

"What?" I asked.

"It's called Bidder, the one where you swipe and make a bid for people."

"Sort of. You're close. But it's actually called..."

"Don't tell me," she pondered for a few more seconds, moving her lips, though I think she was just reciting 'Bidder'.

"Okay, go on, then. What's it called?"

"Tinder," I retorted.

"No," she shook her head. "I preferred my one. Your name for it actually just doesn't make sense."

Eurotrip

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

It started, as ever, with a kiss.

It always starts with a kiss.

It never starts with four pints of lager, a worse for wear laptop, tatty Penneys pajamas and an overflowing ashtray, does it? That just doesn't sound romantic enough. It isn't a good enough story to recount at your imaginary promotion dinner, fancied wedding reception or to your theoretical grandchildren.

Except that's, exactly, where this story begins.

The room was illuminated by two small screens and orchestrated by the sound of eight tiny fingers tapping away.

I opened a fresh can. My Debit card was settled neatly and trophy-like on the armrest in full peripheral view.

Book! Book! Book! Book! Book!(!!!)

Leave a Comment Body Image, Comedy, Lifestyle, Opinion

25

Sunday, January 14, 2018

I wrote this post as a series of microsections, chronicling random experiences up to now. Some could argue that the format mirrors my unstructured days and lack of direction.

___________________________________________

At six, my first class teacher suggests that I go and see a Speech and Language Therapist. "He needs help pronouncing his Rs and INGs," she explains at the school-gate one day pityingly. My appointment is every Thursday evening at half-five in Galway city, and it quickly becomes an idyllic little date night between my mother and I. We always go shopping together beforehand and get in for early bird specials in cheap restaurants. We study our paper-menu place-mats in silence, ultimately ordering the same thing we've had before. It's heavenly, I discover a new quality in her - a friend. I have a special folder filled with games and activities teaching me how to move my tongue in a certain way to create and digest basic sounds I have not yet mastered. I tirelessly practice them at home with my siblings. "Listen to me say Wobber, Dad!" I demand, perched like a King, triumphantly upright at the head of the dining room table, tooting my own horn. On the fifth or sixth visit I tell the HSE professional I love her, whilst simultaneously handing over a drawing I sketched of a camel smiling. The work-of-art is a dazzling emblem of our relationship. A keepsake of our colourful time together. She smiles and tells me she'll frame it. After that episode I never have to go back again. "His speech impediment is miraculously cured," she cheers gloriously down the phone. Go figure.

7 comments Comedy, Lifestyle

Learning

Friday, November 17, 2017

I arrived at five to nine, checked in with reception, and took my seat.

I plonked myself down, edged tentatively, and started rifling through old trashy mags from the early noughties. I'm sure Paris Hilton would be pleased to know that in this cosmetic surgery's waiting room, she was still front cover material.

It was scant solace to see other people there. I heaved a sigh of relief. I considered it reassuring, in a way, knowing that I wasn't fully alone, mentally and physically. Camaraderie of sorts, strength in numbers, and whatnot.

The room was eerily quiet. After I was done nosing on heyday Paris, I watched in silence for a bit. I found the awkward atmosphere comforting. It allowed the seriousness of my whereabouts to properly sink in, no distractions to allay my fears. Everyone was equally ill at ease in the environment, familiar or unfamiliar, regulars or first-timers, it didn't hold any significance, they were all still unsettled by the surroundings. This wasn't a sea of smiling faces, thrills were scarce in this hostile space.

Anxiety Attacks

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

It starts with a pitter-patter innocently tapping on my shoulders, I hope and pray that this time it might be different, easier, more-forgiving.

This is not some must-have fashion accessory.

I quickly realise it's not soft, sodden, kind drops I'm sensing and everything is about to unfurl dramatically. This is a shrieking, keening omen of the carnage to follow.

The sky darkens into gravel-grey, large clouds form, hailstones descend. The force intensifies and falls down heavily. I'm left with no shelter from the huffing wind and being swept away in a mighty flood. It's all whipping up into a frenzy of mass destruction.

This is not a 'quirk', or something you want.

It's not you, It's me

Sunday, September 24, 2017

We were in a crowded bar.

He cleared his throat with a little cough, then began a speech that he'd no doubt delivered many times before.

Our eyes met with uncanny precision.

I felt my face flush. I knew exactly where he was going, I was like a deer gazing into the barrel of the hunter's gun.

My smile faded and my eyes narrowed.

He let each word out slowly like I was a dumb little kid who needed help understanding, pausing for emphasis.

The clock hand moved slower.

He asked in a kind, compensatory tone, if we could be friends. Because that's something I really needed, another fake friend added to my repertoire. I'm sure there was more to it. He meant well, but the words rang hollow, his voice seemed to trail off into the background. Three dates in, I was a redundant little extra to his world.

I wanted to respond with a clever remark, but I nodded quietly, glumly impassive to his wittering, holding my tongue. It was like he was offering me financial advise or a pre-flight safety demonstration. I tried not to say anything stupid and make things worse. The nonchalance probably exacerbated any remaining air of intimacy.

1 comment Body Image, Lifestyle, Opinion

Leo

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

"It must be hugely exciting, Varadkar being Taoiseach," my barber raved, mid-way through cutting my hair.

"Right," I answered distantly, bewildered, not wanting to be drawn into conversation.

"It will be great for you, I bet you think it's fab," she added quizzically.

"Yep!" I said uneasily, in the vaguest terms possible, to obscure the fact I know next to nothing about politics.

I offered a supportive half-smile, to discourage further probing.

"He'll do no wrong in your eyes, and many others, he has a lot of back-up," she clarified, making it abundantly clear she was referring to his sexuality, chipping away at some inane identity political theory she had contrived in her head.

I sensed annoyance, probably because I was being incredibly uncooperative in indulging her by being the accomplice to the interview.

I winced in disbelief, and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

"Will you be long more?" I said with more authority than I felt, wanting no further business with Nancy Drew's spawn.

"Two minutes," she replied, craning my head back.

Mosqidou

Thursday, July 06, 2017

Mosqidou is a music production and clothing company calling for the unification of all bloodlines, and the eradication of racism.

___________________________________________

Now, here's a funny thing. Imagine you are placed in a group or social setting. A group of different kinds of people. Different backgrounds, genders, ages, and opinions. Try doing this in the Republic of Ireland, or a similar westernised region.

While on this hypothetical tip, avoid surveying your surroundings, or methodically removing overbearing loudmouths and the really irksome from your proximity. You are being systematically unsystematic.

Bear with me?!

Speak, openly, about the topic of religious discrimination.

Go on, do it. Bring it up in spontaneous conversation.

Try it. I dare you.

Express your determination for equal rights for every religious faith living in this country. You're probably going to be greeted with a very harsh reception. You'll encounter outbursts of strong emotion and outpourings of discontent.