It is Tuesday 24th of January; 24/01/12 in Ireland but very confusingly 01/24/12 in America, which always dashes my hopes when I have to catch up with television series over Sidereel. But apart from the next episode of Vampire Diaries being released this week, I have other news. Exciting to me, sending a burst of delight pumping through my veins straight from the heart when my mind takes a turn back to the imminent arrival of the new edition to my life. That would be a piano, if you are wondering.
Now, you may ask me (and rightly so) what's so great about a piano? Or maybe you're sharing in my joy, knowing how anxious I must be feeling in the present moment, without any other such thing on my mind apart from the wondrous beauty about to grace my life. I have no way of knowing whether you are the puzzled or whether you've been through what I'm going through right now unless you comment, so I will continue.
To give you a little background, I started piano at about the age of seven or eight and since then I've dutifully practised every night (give or take). Now, it wasn't intentional despite how boastful that sounds -I was an ignorant child in the way that I didn't really question anything I was told to do by superiors adding to the fact that I have this annoying and irrational mechanism of my personality that gives me a desire to please the elders. Such practising paid off, as it usually does (keeping in mind 'practise makes perfect', which unfortunately is true), I am now finishing up on Grade Eight with the Royal Irish Academy of Music -it's not a prestigious school, it's a music board, for those of who think I may be some sort of elitist.
My over-generous aunt decided to buy me a piano, because recently I had resolved to save up for a digital piano -wanting to upgrade from my barely-in-tune third-hand piano. She saw how much I came to love piano over the years and deemed me good enough, with recommendation from my piano teacher, to receive such an expensive but undeniably useful and invaluable gift. So, since Saturday I have been awaiting this magnificent beast.
The man in the shop, with a grin once he saw how shocked and taken aback I was by all of this, said that it would be "mid-week before we deliver it, probably Wednesday or Thursday" and that they would "ring one or two days in advance". Monday evening, after school -"Did they ring about the piano?" But my father shook his head as he did earlier today. And so, it is not coming tomorrow -Wednesday.
I know this, but for some reason I still harbour this uplifting feeling of hope in my heart that tomorrow I will come home and my father will say "Your piano arrived!" And I would fling my schoolbag away and run down to hug this symbol of promise to my breast, savouring in the knowledge that it is mine, and mine only. I would then sit down and play through every song I ever learnt, to test each one in its crisp, clear, piano sound. It's sort of comparable to the feeling you get on Christmas Eve, the anxious waiting before the present reminiscent of childhood dreams in which you check guiltily to see if the present somehow have come before the due date.
And such, is still the feeling that runs around within me; I chose to share it with you because it would help somewhat to relieve at least a little bit of the pre-piano tension and excitement within me. I say a little bit, because my face still lights up whenever I think of it.
Thank you for reading or enduring my random (and decidedly long) stream of thoughts,
Arma.
Wednesday 25 January 2012
Thursday 19 January 2012
The Future? Pfth!
Taz here.
Sorry for the delay-but with the strike and everything...
Over the past few weeks, my thoughts have been consumed with college.
Yes, you heard me right, college. As you may remember from the introduction, I'm fifteen, and in transition year. Is it too early to be putting stuff down in concrete?
Honestly, I don't know.
For about two years now, I've wanted to be an artist when I grow up. The key words here being "when I grow up." The future always seems so far off, and the time between now and leaving school always feels like a long stretch of road, meandering way off into the distance. You know the end must be there, but is there really a point spending the entire journey concentrating on the destination? I've freely shared this opinion with everyone who asks about my plans. I claim I'm someone who likes to "live in the present," and that I'm concentrating on art, yes, but I'm in transition year-Cut me some slack. Anyway, what's the point in drawing maps I may not want to follow in two years?
It all changed one evening over the Christmas holidays, when I sat myself down at my computer. My intentions were clear in my mind: to find out what art colleges were in Ireland, so I'd at least only look a little bit clueless next time I was quizzed about the future. So I researched.
From what I gathered, there are a good few places in Ireland you can study art, with the National College of Art Dublin (NCAD) being the main one. From there, I started getting confused. I had been aware before hand that you have to prepare a portfolio (a collection of some of your artwork) if you wish to go into art, but I was unsure about how to do about making one. But I thought hey, that’s what fifth year is for, right?
So I pushed it to the back of my head, where it sat unthought-of, along side memories of my Twihard days and what I'd do if I met Darren Criss while I was wearing my retainer.
I had an art class my first day back at school, so I asked my teacher when she thought I should start working on my portfolio.
Typically, her answer was a resounding, "NOW."
Thankfully, another girl in my class is planning on NCAD. Overhearing, she tells me that she's attending a course in Dublin this summer, in which NCAD will be giving her the heads up on how to do a portfolio. According to her mom, a lot of people don't do their portfolio 'till sixth year and end up failing their mocks. From what I understand, she's one of those awesome people who have mega supportive parents. (Not that mine aren't great, once I convinced them it was what I had my heart set on, they accepted the whole art thing.) As I write this, I'm hoping to attend the summer course.
Being an artist-it's something I want to do. And I don't want to give it up, and have to look back one day when I'm working in a box job and think, "What if?" But what if I'm giving myself tunnel vision, focusing on only one thing? Am I leaving other options open for myself? Am I being stupid thinking I'd ever be good enough to make it out there?
Jesus, this sounds like a diary entry.
Sorry for the delay-but with the strike and everything...
Over the past few weeks, my thoughts have been consumed with college.
Yes, you heard me right, college. As you may remember from the introduction, I'm fifteen, and in transition year. Is it too early to be putting stuff down in concrete?
Honestly, I don't know.
For about two years now, I've wanted to be an artist when I grow up. The key words here being "when I grow up." The future always seems so far off, and the time between now and leaving school always feels like a long stretch of road, meandering way off into the distance. You know the end must be there, but is there really a point spending the entire journey concentrating on the destination? I've freely shared this opinion with everyone who asks about my plans. I claim I'm someone who likes to "live in the present," and that I'm concentrating on art, yes, but I'm in transition year-Cut me some slack. Anyway, what's the point in drawing maps I may not want to follow in two years?
It all changed one evening over the Christmas holidays, when I sat myself down at my computer. My intentions were clear in my mind: to find out what art colleges were in Ireland, so I'd at least only look a little bit clueless next time I was quizzed about the future. So I researched.
From what I gathered, there are a good few places in Ireland you can study art, with the National College of Art Dublin (NCAD) being the main one. From there, I started getting confused. I had been aware before hand that you have to prepare a portfolio (a collection of some of your artwork) if you wish to go into art, but I was unsure about how to do about making one. But I thought hey, that’s what fifth year is for, right?
So I pushed it to the back of my head, where it sat unthought-of, along side memories of my Twihard days and what I'd do if I met Darren Criss while I was wearing my retainer.
I had an art class my first day back at school, so I asked my teacher when she thought I should start working on my portfolio.
Typically, her answer was a resounding, "NOW."
Thankfully, another girl in my class is planning on NCAD. Overhearing, she tells me that she's attending a course in Dublin this summer, in which NCAD will be giving her the heads up on how to do a portfolio. According to her mom, a lot of people don't do their portfolio 'till sixth year and end up failing their mocks. From what I understand, she's one of those awesome people who have mega supportive parents. (Not that mine aren't great, once I convinced them it was what I had my heart set on, they accepted the whole art thing.) As I write this, I'm hoping to attend the summer course.
Being an artist-it's something I want to do. And I don't want to give it up, and have to look back one day when I'm working in a box job and think, "What if?" But what if I'm giving myself tunnel vision, focusing on only one thing? Am I leaving other options open for myself? Am I being stupid thinking I'd ever be good enough to make it out there?
Jesus, this sounds like a diary entry.
Wednesday 11 January 2012
America and other things that are needlessly big.
Hey people, I just flew in from America, and boy are my arms tired!
I’m sorry, I had to say it, but yeah I spent the last ten days of my life in Orlando, Florida, ‘visiting relatives’. yeah, lets go with that.
But anyway, since I’m too jetlag to come up with a better topic I figured my reaction to ‘public restrooms’ in America would be fitting. Now I’m not talking about your typical run down restrooms in the suburbs. Oh no, county councils have already heard enough about them. I’m talking about the likes of the bathrooms you get in Universal Studios and Disney Land. For many (not really any though) good reasons.
The first thing I noticed almost immediately was the fact that the bottom of the cubicle wall is so fricken high. In most places it was practically parallel to the toilet. So yeah it covers the essentials I guess but seriously, they could afford automatic toilets but they couldn’t afford several inches more plywood?
Which brings me to my next point; automatic toilets. Oh how the phrase sends shivers down my spine. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, let me enlighten you. These ‘automatic toilets’ as they are commonly known are devices used to flush toilets without any manual contribution from the device user.
Admittedly, I do see the point to an extent. I mean there’s always that one gobshite(‘scuse my language) that can’t waste a single second to lean around and flush the fricken thing. Not to mention it’s always the same gobshite who had to use 3 yards of toilet paper to wipe themselves.
But all the same there’s nothing more annoying then when you have just finished doing your business then when you go to wipe yourself and the toilet flushes on you. But of course if you try to wipe yourself while still on the seat, the bowel is so full of water that your knuckles end up..well, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.
However, despite(omfg my laptop almost died just there now I nearly had a heart attack) these minor problems that could have easily been avoided(just saying) I really like America. Everything is big. Really big. Pointlessly big in most cases. But anyway, that’s all for now folks, see ya real soon ;)
-teri
I’m sorry, I had to say it, but yeah I spent the last ten days of my life in Orlando, Florida, ‘visiting relatives’. yeah, lets go with that.
But anyway, since I’m too jetlag to come up with a better topic I figured my reaction to ‘public restrooms’ in America would be fitting. Now I’m not talking about your typical run down restrooms in the suburbs. Oh no, county councils have already heard enough about them. I’m talking about the likes of the bathrooms you get in Universal Studios and Disney Land. For many (not really any though) good reasons.
The first thing I noticed almost immediately was the fact that the bottom of the cubicle wall is so fricken high. In most places it was practically parallel to the toilet. So yeah it covers the essentials I guess but seriously, they could afford automatic toilets but they couldn’t afford several inches more plywood?
Which brings me to my next point; automatic toilets. Oh how the phrase sends shivers down my spine. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, let me enlighten you. These ‘automatic toilets’ as they are commonly known are devices used to flush toilets without any manual contribution from the device user.
Admittedly, I do see the point to an extent. I mean there’s always that one gobshite(‘scuse my language) that can’t waste a single second to lean around and flush the fricken thing. Not to mention it’s always the same gobshite who had to use 3 yards of toilet paper to wipe themselves.
But all the same there’s nothing more annoying then when you have just finished doing your business then when you go to wipe yourself and the toilet flushes on you. But of course if you try to wipe yourself while still on the seat, the bowel is so full of water that your knuckles end up..well, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.
However, despite(omfg my laptop almost died just there now I nearly had a heart attack) these minor problems that could have easily been avoided(just saying) I really like America. Everything is big. Really big. Pointlessly big in most cases. But anyway, that’s all for now folks, see ya real soon ;)
-teri
Wednesday 4 January 2012
pets
So for Christmas my sister and I decided to get my mum a dog as her present (don't worry she knew about it first). But she has her flaws; she is not house trained which is annoying because we have to clean the mess up, she has gotten a bit better now. She also eats everything; she put a small hole in one of my tops and one of my sister's dresses and so far has chewed all her plastic food containers. But she is so cute that she is easily forgiven and when she's calm, she can be so sweet, like when ur standing in the kitchen she lies down on ur feet. So that's my blog for the week hope you liked it.
Talk soon
Penny ;)
Talk soon
Penny ;)
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