Hey everyone,
Sorry I'm late, so today me and and another one of the girls from they youth media group went to Comhairle na nOg meeting. Comhairle na nOg is a youth council and they are all around the country. They are a council that help the voice of young people to be heard. Today we did a workshop on mental health which I found very interesting they talked about things such as that our mind doesn't actually live in the present its either the past or future, they then got us to close our eyes and concentrate on our breathing for 5 minutes this is very difficult because it requires us to concentrated on the present which our mind hates. Our mind will always try and focus on something else like the noises around you or the homework that's due tomorrow so after you read this I want you to try concentrating on just your breathing for 5 minutes and see for yourself how difficult it is.
so that's me for the day guys and girls hope you enjoyed reading talk again soon,
Penny
P.S. Feel free to contact anyone from youth work Ireland if you are experiencing any mental health issues they are there to help and support you. Also please check out Comhairle na nOg monaghan website: www.monaghanyouth.ie .
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Sorry I'm Late, I Suppose
I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about today. What's going on in my life at the moment, you ask, wanting to give me inspiration as to what to write? Well, nothing much, to be honest. All I can say is I was in Spain up until twelve yesterday (Friday).
Spain?
It's lovely, especially the little place I was. I have to hand it to them, the Spanish have the resilience to give in to learning English with perfectly articulate words while firmly remaining delved within the Spanish roots. The place I went to was probably the most anglicized of the lot, and yet all the natives spoke their own language with the utmost pride, not giving in for one moment to the Englishness that seemed to pervade the crisp, cultural, sweetly scented scene of Torremilinos in Spain.
Spain in October?
The weather's nice, albeit the low lying fog that settled over us like a thick, unsnuggly, rather annoying duvet sent my mind to the suspicions that it wasn't going to be the sunny break of doing nothing that I yearned for since fifth year settled in. Then, after a humid evening, Wednesday morning opened up the refreshing air, cold but with a crispness that didn't send you searching for your coat.
Spain's Population...?
By population, most teenage girl's minds snaps straight to the gorgeously tanned boys that roam the beach with their swimming trunks hanging lower around their delectably tanned fronts... The masculinity echoing waves of sauciness that send women into a hot flush as they breeze past.... The smugness of their hint-of-a-smile and the confident look in their eyes that sends any woman within a five feet radius spinning in a drooling, melted mess on the floor. Or beach. Or Jacuzzi. Or wherever you happen to be.
However...
The teenage girl's mind didn't anticipate the sea of swimming, tufty grey hair that sits on the top of a balding man. Blotched skin, like thick, wrinkled leather that sits on their faces. Some mahogany -resembling that old, tan-coloured, leather couch we all have come across in a home, the one that everyone refuses to sit out of principal. These had exactly the same stature when sitting down, although not as comfortable. Others were that pale, greying colour that leaves them looking drawn and bulgy eyes and their mouths, just seem to be puckered continuously. Or as I recently encountered, stuck open and rounded like a gawking goldfish.
I'm not talking about those uber-sexy, brown-golden haired, handsome Spanish boys with their piercing, liquid-gold eyes.
I'm talking old, decrepit men, walking around on their shiny little Zimmer-frames, inching this way and that, causing road blocks and numerous accidents. You want man-boobies? I got them everyday!
Nah, in saying that, I didn't mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, in the quiet murmurings of my own vivid imagination, creating perfect scenarios of things I want to happen. Something I spend a bit too much time doing these days.
It was nice to get away, to see a different country, and anyone who has been to Torremilinos would never trade it up, the people are lovely, it's quite anglicized. You wake up in the mornings and wander outside and embrace the crisp, October air with your nostrils, welcoming its refreshing feel into every little bronchiole. The sea is an idyllic myriad of forty shades of blue, and the shimmering gold and silver. The sand, a perfect, sandy colour of pleasant gold and the weird, pineapple-like trees floating above us, against the sky.
Was I happy to be back?
Undoubtedly. I don't think I could've stayed longer. Not only fifth year's burgeoning duties or my parents and their annoying ways (especially felt because of the absence of a certain older brother), but because I felt I was missing out. Even if I wasn't, the only place I wanted to be then was home.
Home.
I know I'll end up leaving the nest eventually, and frankly, I can't wait to get gone, even if it's only to Dublin. But right now, my life and everything in it is here.
And you could NOT get me to go away with my parents again.
So the next time I'll be shuffling abroad, you ask?
We'll have to see, but at the moment, I'm thinking France. Namely Paris, but maybe inter-railing would be a good start. Lots of variety and very fetching boys to ogle in a variety of places.
Now, back to the homework I've been avoiding... Anyone else notice who procrastinating against one thing will make you do other things you previously were avoiding? Life's funny like that....
Peace out, Y'all,
Arma.
Spain?
It's lovely, especially the little place I was. I have to hand it to them, the Spanish have the resilience to give in to learning English with perfectly articulate words while firmly remaining delved within the Spanish roots. The place I went to was probably the most anglicized of the lot, and yet all the natives spoke their own language with the utmost pride, not giving in for one moment to the Englishness that seemed to pervade the crisp, cultural, sweetly scented scene of Torremilinos in Spain.
Spain in October?
The weather's nice, albeit the low lying fog that settled over us like a thick, unsnuggly, rather annoying duvet sent my mind to the suspicions that it wasn't going to be the sunny break of doing nothing that I yearned for since fifth year settled in. Then, after a humid evening, Wednesday morning opened up the refreshing air, cold but with a crispness that didn't send you searching for your coat.
Spain's Population...?
By population, most teenage girl's minds snaps straight to the gorgeously tanned boys that roam the beach with their swimming trunks hanging lower around their delectably tanned fronts... The masculinity echoing waves of sauciness that send women into a hot flush as they breeze past.... The smugness of their hint-of-a-smile and the confident look in their eyes that sends any woman within a five feet radius spinning in a drooling, melted mess on the floor. Or beach. Or Jacuzzi. Or wherever you happen to be.
However...
The teenage girl's mind didn't anticipate the sea of swimming, tufty grey hair that sits on the top of a balding man. Blotched skin, like thick, wrinkled leather that sits on their faces. Some mahogany -resembling that old, tan-coloured, leather couch we all have come across in a home, the one that everyone refuses to sit out of principal. These had exactly the same stature when sitting down, although not as comfortable. Others were that pale, greying colour that leaves them looking drawn and bulgy eyes and their mouths, just seem to be puckered continuously. Or as I recently encountered, stuck open and rounded like a gawking goldfish.
I'm not talking about those uber-sexy, brown-golden haired, handsome Spanish boys with their piercing, liquid-gold eyes.
I'm talking old, decrepit men, walking around on their shiny little Zimmer-frames, inching this way and that, causing road blocks and numerous accidents. You want man-boobies? I got them everyday!
Nah, in saying that, I didn't mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, in the quiet murmurings of my own vivid imagination, creating perfect scenarios of things I want to happen. Something I spend a bit too much time doing these days.
It was nice to get away, to see a different country, and anyone who has been to Torremilinos would never trade it up, the people are lovely, it's quite anglicized. You wake up in the mornings and wander outside and embrace the crisp, October air with your nostrils, welcoming its refreshing feel into every little bronchiole. The sea is an idyllic myriad of forty shades of blue, and the shimmering gold and silver. The sand, a perfect, sandy colour of pleasant gold and the weird, pineapple-like trees floating above us, against the sky.
Was I happy to be back?
Undoubtedly. I don't think I could've stayed longer. Not only fifth year's burgeoning duties or my parents and their annoying ways (especially felt because of the absence of a certain older brother), but because I felt I was missing out. Even if I wasn't, the only place I wanted to be then was home.
Home.
I know I'll end up leaving the nest eventually, and frankly, I can't wait to get gone, even if it's only to Dublin. But right now, my life and everything in it is here.
And you could NOT get me to go away with my parents again.
So the next time I'll be shuffling abroad, you ask?
We'll have to see, but at the moment, I'm thinking France. Namely Paris, but maybe inter-railing would be a good start. Lots of variety and very fetching boys to ogle in a variety of places.
Now, back to the homework I've been avoiding... Anyone else notice who procrastinating against one thing will make you do other things you previously were avoiding? Life's funny like that....
Peace out, Y'all,
Arma.
Sunday, 30 September 2012
the common cold.
Hi guys, sorry I'm late.
As I'm sure most of you have noticed we're fast approaching flu season again. I've had more than a few run ins with everyone's favourite disease; I spent majority of days between the ages of 8 and 14 sniffing in an ever failing to clear my bloody nostrils. It drove my mother up the wall. Mind you, it suddenly became ok whenever she had a cold, but it went straight back to being the eighth deadly sin whenever she was cured.
So, fast forward a couple years and I've finally been cured of my 6 year long plague. It still comes back to play every now and then, but my body seems to have mastered the art of getting it to f*ck off when it does. Trust me, I'd love for this to be a blog about the 100% bona-fide truth about how to get rid of that dasterdly curse once and for all. But seriously. Scientists haven't even figured that out yet. Give it time, I might surprise ya, but at said moment in time I don't have close to enough resources.
Anyway.
Here's a quick run down. Your body is constantly produces mucus to fight of any bacteria that might try and make it's way into your body. The mucus is drained down two holes at the back of your nose, with then led down your throat. However, when you get a cold, the blood vessels around these holes become inflamed. This is what causes that ''stuffed nose'' feeling. The holes become blocked, and mucus can't be drained properly. So no amount of blowing your nose will allow you to breathe freely.
What will you may ask? In my experience;
•plenty of water
•plenty of rest
•wrap up warm.
I know, I know, this isn't exactly a scientific break-through, but it's all I've got ok? I've heard that breathing in steam helps to unblock those holes, but it's a theory that I've yet to test.
so That's all for now folks. See yas real soon!
-teri
Wednesday, 19 September 2012
chocolate chip cookies
Hey everyone penny here,
So nothing very intersting is happening
with me at the moment so I've decided to give you another recipe hope
u like this one let me know how it turns out.
Chocolate chip cookies
8oz Butter
8oz Brown sugar
10oz Flour
4oz Chopped nuts (optional)
4oz Chocolate chips
Cream the butter and sugar together.
Sive in the flour. Then add the nuts and chocolate.
Shape into 2 rolls about 1 3/4 thick.
Wrap in cling film and chill for 2 hours. Slice into even sections
put on a baking tray and cook at 180 degrees for 8 – 7 mins till
the edges are golden brown.
Hope u enjoy these little treats love
hearing from you so let me know how things went.
Signing out
penny x
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
The Scottish Play
Ye all may have heareth of the Scottish Play, that which is known as Macbeth,
A cursed name so full of evil, but good in it, all the same,
A play, a lesson and a message,
All brought together in one,
Macbeth is the play that us Leaving Certs are studying,
And with haste, be it done.
Yada, yada, yada. For anyone living outside of Ireland, us teenagers have to sit at least seven exams for what we call the Leaving Certificate, or the Leaving for short. And of course, in English, my favourite subject, or at least one of, we have this long, arduous course to get through, full of indecipherable Shakespearean language, daunting symbolistic poetry, a novel that is bound to be as boring as watching paint dry...
We started off on that, which is probably the most hated out of all that is in the course..... The Shakespearean Drama. Ours? Macbeth, or "Macbeth" as we must refer to it, when speaking about the play's name.
I expected it to be dull, rendering me half-asleep every time we opened the book to try and nudge our way through the almost hieroglyphic language that is Shakespeare.
Call me pleasantly surprised when it wasn't like that at all! I love reading "Macbeth", well maybe love is a bit strong, but a lot more than I could have hoped!! It's a nice play to be studying, full of mysticism and intriguing supernatural powers that are in play, but mainly it is reading into the play and its meaning that gets me every time.
English, is just one of those subjects that just keeps on exciting me day after day.
Hope you are all well, and settling back into school!
I also have to say how envious I am of the college students! D: Arrrggh, begone with you all and your freedom!!
Arma.
A cursed name so full of evil, but good in it, all the same,
A play, a lesson and a message,
All brought together in one,
Macbeth is the play that us Leaving Certs are studying,
And with haste, be it done.
Yada, yada, yada. For anyone living outside of Ireland, us teenagers have to sit at least seven exams for what we call the Leaving Certificate, or the Leaving for short. And of course, in English, my favourite subject, or at least one of, we have this long, arduous course to get through, full of indecipherable Shakespearean language, daunting symbolistic poetry, a novel that is bound to be as boring as watching paint dry...
We started off on that, which is probably the most hated out of all that is in the course..... The Shakespearean Drama. Ours? Macbeth, or "Macbeth" as we must refer to it, when speaking about the play's name.
I expected it to be dull, rendering me half-asleep every time we opened the book to try and nudge our way through the almost hieroglyphic language that is Shakespeare.
Call me pleasantly surprised when it wasn't like that at all! I love reading "Macbeth", well maybe love is a bit strong, but a lot more than I could have hoped!! It's a nice play to be studying, full of mysticism and intriguing supernatural powers that are in play, but mainly it is reading into the play and its meaning that gets me every time.
English, is just one of those subjects that just keeps on exciting me day after day.
Hope you are all well, and settling back into school!
I also have to say how envious I am of the college students! D: Arrrggh, begone with you all and your freedom!!
Arma.
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
Concerts
Taz here,
So it looks like me and the gang will be going to see Ed Sheeran in January. He's in concert in the O2. I'm pretty buzzed, honestly. We're planning on standing tickets-though it's unlikely we'll have to deal with much jostling at a heavy metal concert like Sheeran's will be.
The best thing about his music, in my humble opinion, is the lyrics. His songs are almost poetic, with some of my personal favourite lines being, "Resembling cutlery on the sofa," and "I could do without the tan on my left finger where my forefinger meets my knuckle." For all us softies out there, lines like that are written for us. Just so we can melt into a puddle of goo and coo softly.
However, he wouldn't be my first choice of artists to see live. My past concert experiences are both meagre and sorta pathetic; Westlife; The X Factor Concert; and The Script. Nowadays I'd be more eager to get tickets to Freelance Whales, Of Monsters and Men, FUN.... all of which probably won't be playing in Ireland any time soon.
Ed Sheeran though... that'll be brilliant.
Anyway, you're all to check out this new band, "Bastille." Their album just came out and they're FRICKIN' AWESOME. Look out for their songs, "Flaws" and "What Would You Do."
GO NOW AND YOUTUBE THEM.
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
So will I get ya a pint of something? (warning: teenage moaning)
Teri here.
Just to clarify, I'm sixteen. For those of you who don't know, the legal age for drinking in Ireland is eighteen. But needless to say, most people start before that. And by most I mean pretty much everyone I know at said point in time has 'a couple' when they go out. I'm not gonna lie, I've had a few sups here and there myself. Mind you, I've never been properly drunk, a bit tipsy maybe, but that's the height of it.
Whenever someone drinks they are putting a substance into there body that changes the way they act. For some people, that scares them. Others like that idea. I use to think that people who needed alcohol to have a good time were sad. But I've gotten to the point where I understand it.
It's hard being a teenager. And I know I'm only young and I don't know what the world is really like, but at said moment in time, being a teenager is the hardest thing I've ever done. Maybe in a couple years time I'll figure it out. But that's not the point. I'm facing these problems right now, and right now I haven't got a fucking clue. I know that the sun will come out tomorrow, but I still have to make it through the tough days. And that really sucks.
Aw, would you look at that. I was in such a great mood this morning.
Listen lads, I'm not saying I think under-age drinking is a good idea. Jesus I don't even know is putting corn in my roll is a good idea. I just know that whatever age you are, everyone needs a chance to breathe.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that's all I've got. later :)
-teri
Just to clarify, I'm sixteen. For those of you who don't know, the legal age for drinking in Ireland is eighteen. But needless to say, most people start before that. And by most I mean pretty much everyone I know at said point in time has 'a couple' when they go out. I'm not gonna lie, I've had a few sups here and there myself. Mind you, I've never been properly drunk, a bit tipsy maybe, but that's the height of it.
Whenever someone drinks they are putting a substance into there body that changes the way they act. For some people, that scares them. Others like that idea. I use to think that people who needed alcohol to have a good time were sad. But I've gotten to the point where I understand it.
It's hard being a teenager. And I know I'm only young and I don't know what the world is really like, but at said moment in time, being a teenager is the hardest thing I've ever done. Maybe in a couple years time I'll figure it out. But that's not the point. I'm facing these problems right now, and right now I haven't got a fucking clue. I know that the sun will come out tomorrow, but I still have to make it through the tough days. And that really sucks.
Aw, would you look at that. I was in such a great mood this morning.
Listen lads, I'm not saying I think under-age drinking is a good idea. Jesus I don't even know is putting corn in my roll is a good idea. I just know that whatever age you are, everyone needs a chance to breathe.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that's all I've got. later :)
-teri
Thursday, 23 August 2012
a room full of balloons and a cake
Hey everyone,
Sorry im late I was away all day yesterday but im back.
So it was Taz's birthday the other day( happy birthday Taz we love you )so they girls from the blog and I decide to surprise Taz. So we got her out of the house using some friends then while she was away we filled her room with balloons, if anyone tries this i would suggest use 200 balloons if its a small room. and carful u don't get to light headed. we also baked her a triple layer cake, of brownie, maltser sponge and oreo sponge, in the middle was nutella and to top it all off covered in BUTTERCREAM. then as a little pressie on the cake with little cocktail sticks put small embarressing pictures just for the laugh really. Taz hoped u like ur surpirse and happy birthday form all of us at random ramblings.
Thats me for the day,
thanks for reading
Penny :)
Sorry im late I was away all day yesterday but im back.
So it was Taz's birthday the other day( happy birthday Taz we love you )so they girls from the blog and I decide to surprise Taz. So we got her out of the house using some friends then while she was away we filled her room with balloons, if anyone tries this i would suggest use 200 balloons if its a small room. and carful u don't get to light headed. we also baked her a triple layer cake, of brownie, maltser sponge and oreo sponge, in the middle was nutella and to top it all off covered in BUTTERCREAM. then as a little pressie on the cake with little cocktail sticks put small embarressing pictures just for the laugh really. Taz hoped u like ur surpirse and happy birthday form all of us at random ramblings.
Thats me for the day,
thanks for reading
Penny :)
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
The Points Race, the Leaving Cert and the Future
It took me quite a while to decide what I would do my blog on -it's not easy to pick one topic in a world of so many and write about it. Writing is the easy part -deciding? Yeah, not so much. It's not even an important decision like let's say, choosing your course in college, determining where you want to be after college. It's all a mix and a jumble and a catastrophic combination of different things coming together in a big huge ball of complicated wibbly wobbly nothingness.
And so, seeing as today is results day and all across the country, eager students are awaiting their fate in the world from that little slip of paper, carefully adding up all the point they managed to scrape before spending the summer as a big partying fest, wondering what on earth they will do next.
My brother was one of those students, and so I am partly sharing the excitement that comes with today -aunties ringing and placidly congratulating him, most of them sincere, some maybe comparing them to their own children's. He did very well. Likely to be the best in my extended family on nine cousins, on my dad's side. All I'm thinking of is "HOW CAN I BEAT THIS?"
But I will. Believe me, I will. I did it in the Junior Cert and I can do it again. Fueled by competition is maybe not the best way to go, but if it gets me to where I want to go, then so be it.
And where do I want to go?
What course will I choose when it's my dreaded turn to fill out the CAO course application form....?
I have no clue.
None whatsoever.
Nada.
The important thing is to have a goal, and start somewhere, reach for the top, knowing all the while that if you fall a little short or land a little ahead, you'll most likely end up where you're meant to.
THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO PICK A STARTING POINT AND WORK YOUR HARDEST TO GET THERE.
Peace out, y'all!
Arma
And so, seeing as today is results day and all across the country, eager students are awaiting their fate in the world from that little slip of paper, carefully adding up all the point they managed to scrape before spending the summer as a big partying fest, wondering what on earth they will do next.
My brother was one of those students, and so I am partly sharing the excitement that comes with today -aunties ringing and placidly congratulating him, most of them sincere, some maybe comparing them to their own children's. He did very well. Likely to be the best in my extended family on nine cousins, on my dad's side. All I'm thinking of is "HOW CAN I BEAT THIS?"
But I will. Believe me, I will. I did it in the Junior Cert and I can do it again. Fueled by competition is maybe not the best way to go, but if it gets me to where I want to go, then so be it.
And where do I want to go?
What course will I choose when it's my dreaded turn to fill out the CAO course application form....?
I have no clue.
None whatsoever.
Nada.
The important thing is to have a goal, and start somewhere, reach for the top, knowing all the while that if you fall a little short or land a little ahead, you'll most likely end up where you're meant to.
THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO PICK A STARTING POINT AND WORK YOUR HARDEST TO GET THERE.
Peace out, y'all!
Arma
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Pogonophobia (The Fear of Beards)
Taz here.
Phobia's have always been something of an interest to me. They reflect upon us-who we are as people, what we've done, how life has effected us. On the day of our birth, we're not handed phobias like gifts-here you go, have some claustrophobia, no no I insist, and your aunt brought some nyctophobia as well-we develop them. In fact, we're born with only two fears; the fear of falling, and the fear of loud noises.
For those who don't know, a phobia (according to thefreedictionary.com) is a "persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous." Pretty much, it's a fear of something that doesn't make sense. You know you're being silly-the spiders smaller than you're fingernail, it's harmless-but that doesn't mean you're not going to run away screaming if the spider lands on your desk. The fear of spidies, by the way, is dubbed arachnophobia.
So how do we get phobia's then? Practically every single TV show seems to suggest that they are developed based on our childhood experiences and environment. Which is true-so yeah, TV can be educational. Another cause is traumatic experiences-following a car crash you might find yourself fearing being in a car. (amaxophobia) Following a bad bout of depression during which you sharpened pencils everyday, you could have a phobia of pencils. (aichmophobia) One of the most common reasons, which doesn't make it into the media because it's not half as exciting, is simply a fear of the unknown. A lot of phobia's spring from just not understanding or being unable to fathom the object or instance of a fear.
Interesting stuff, right?
I myself, am luckily not suffering from any phobias. I used to be terrified of spiders, but overcame that by forcing myself to pick up and name any spiders that wondered into my path. (Yes, my parents asked who I was talking to) Needles, however, while not bringing me to phobia level, are a serious threat. There pointy presence leads me to dramatic near-fainting experiences in which I hastily sit down, clutch my inner wrists and wish I wasn't so aware of my knees. I admit my reaction isn't typical.
But no chance will that hold me back-I have great intentions to give blood when I'm older. I'll just work from what I know works-I'll adopt stray needles, give them names and a good cuddle, and send them on their way. What could possibly go wrong?
What about you-Do you have any irrational fears?
Phobia's have always been something of an interest to me. They reflect upon us-who we are as people, what we've done, how life has effected us. On the day of our birth, we're not handed phobias like gifts-here you go, have some claustrophobia, no no I insist, and your aunt brought some nyctophobia as well-we develop them. In fact, we're born with only two fears; the fear of falling, and the fear of loud noises.
For those who don't know, a phobia (according to thefreedictionary.com) is a "persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous." Pretty much, it's a fear of something that doesn't make sense. You know you're being silly-the spiders smaller than you're fingernail, it's harmless-but that doesn't mean you're not going to run away screaming if the spider lands on your desk. The fear of spidies, by the way, is dubbed arachnophobia.
So how do we get phobia's then? Practically every single TV show seems to suggest that they are developed based on our childhood experiences and environment. Which is true-so yeah, TV can be educational. Another cause is traumatic experiences-following a car crash you might find yourself fearing being in a car. (amaxophobia) Following a bad bout of depression during which you sharpened pencils everyday, you could have a phobia of pencils. (aichmophobia) One of the most common reasons, which doesn't make it into the media because it's not half as exciting, is simply a fear of the unknown. A lot of phobia's spring from just not understanding or being unable to fathom the object or instance of a fear.
Interesting stuff, right?
I myself, am luckily not suffering from any phobias. I used to be terrified of spiders, but overcame that by forcing myself to pick up and name any spiders that wondered into my path. (Yes, my parents asked who I was talking to) Needles, however, while not bringing me to phobia level, are a serious threat. There pointy presence leads me to dramatic near-fainting experiences in which I hastily sit down, clutch my inner wrists and wish I wasn't so aware of my knees. I admit my reaction isn't typical.
But no chance will that hold me back-I have great intentions to give blood when I'm older. I'll just work from what I know works-I'll adopt stray needles, give them names and a good cuddle, and send them on their way. What could possibly go wrong?
What about you-Do you have any irrational fears?
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Gosh Dern Foreigner.
Sup Dawgs.
I've just spent a week in sunny (ha, as if) Killarney on holidays with my family. Now I could talk about the beautiful countryside or climbing Carantuohill (Ireland's highest mountain) but no, I think I might focus on a subject my father so graciously pointed out in every place we went in to.
''it's all foreigners working here''
It's not an unfamiliar phrase or thought to the majority of people who live in Ireland. Alien species have gradually been invading our pleasant isles for the last god knows how many years now, and the numbers are starting to add up to a noticeable figure.
The main reason, people claim, that 'they', not to quote south park but that ''they took err jerbs'' is because they work for a lower wage. As far as I see it, there is two ways this is possible. No. 1, it's a form of discrimination. Can employers really just look at a person's skin tone and think 'oh, they'll work cheap'. It's not like people write 'will work for minimum wage' in the achievements section of their CV. Am I really the only one who has noticed this, or am I just the only one willing to point it out?
The only other reason I can see for this situation, is the possibility that Irish people do get hired, but are fired again because they won't work at the lower wage. If this is the case, all I can say is 'what''? If some people are willing to do the same work for less, then why the hell shouldn't they get the job? Just because we like the idea of a lavish lifestyle, doesn't mean it's possible to live it in this current economy. It just isn't. if people want this country to be even bordering on great again (question mark after the 'again'), they need to be willing to make some sacrifices. And if they're not, maybe they should just emigrate.
Because honestly I'm not sure if that's such a bad thing any more. I may only be young, but I've come to realise that Ireland is the tiniest fraction of this great rock we live on. Yet we're huge. We've expanded. We've left the nest to survive, and now dot the globe like mosquitos. I remember being in america, and people saying to me, ''Oh yeah? I'm half irish, my grandmother's maiden name was 'Malloy''. At the time I just shook my head, but now it seems like that may be the way it's going. Maybe in a couple centuries time, no one will be 'pure-blood' irish, we'll all just be cocktails of Mongolian and Portarican or something. And that isn't a bad thing!
While watching the parade of all the countries at the Olympic ceremony, I'm not gonna lie, I didn't know where in the world half the places where from, but I sorta guessed form the colour of their skin. But when it came to the U.S, the whole group was made of such a mix of Black people, Chinese people, people who's nationality I couldn't even guess, it wasn't as if they were representing the U.S.A, it was like they were representing the world.
Imagine that though. Everyone being such a mix of everything that you could no longer tell who was African, or American, or even Irish. Everyone was just from the world, and that was all that mattered.
So let the gosh dern foreigners works. Give it some time, and they might stop being foreigners altogether.
I shall leave you with this awesome video- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApcqhokPeb4&feature=plcp enjoy.
toddle loo!
-teri
I've just spent a week in sunny (ha, as if) Killarney on holidays with my family. Now I could talk about the beautiful countryside or climbing Carantuohill (Ireland's highest mountain) but no, I think I might focus on a subject my father so graciously pointed out in every place we went in to.
''it's all foreigners working here''
It's not an unfamiliar phrase or thought to the majority of people who live in Ireland. Alien species have gradually been invading our pleasant isles for the last god knows how many years now, and the numbers are starting to add up to a noticeable figure.
The main reason, people claim, that 'they', not to quote south park but that ''they took err jerbs'' is because they work for a lower wage. As far as I see it, there is two ways this is possible. No. 1, it's a form of discrimination. Can employers really just look at a person's skin tone and think 'oh, they'll work cheap'. It's not like people write 'will work for minimum wage' in the achievements section of their CV. Am I really the only one who has noticed this, or am I just the only one willing to point it out?
The only other reason I can see for this situation, is the possibility that Irish people do get hired, but are fired again because they won't work at the lower wage. If this is the case, all I can say is 'what''? If some people are willing to do the same work for less, then why the hell shouldn't they get the job? Just because we like the idea of a lavish lifestyle, doesn't mean it's possible to live it in this current economy. It just isn't. if people want this country to be even bordering on great again (question mark after the 'again'), they need to be willing to make some sacrifices. And if they're not, maybe they should just emigrate.
Because honestly I'm not sure if that's such a bad thing any more. I may only be young, but I've come to realise that Ireland is the tiniest fraction of this great rock we live on. Yet we're huge. We've expanded. We've left the nest to survive, and now dot the globe like mosquitos. I remember being in america, and people saying to me, ''Oh yeah? I'm half irish, my grandmother's maiden name was 'Malloy''. At the time I just shook my head, but now it seems like that may be the way it's going. Maybe in a couple centuries time, no one will be 'pure-blood' irish, we'll all just be cocktails of Mongolian and Portarican or something. And that isn't a bad thing!
While watching the parade of all the countries at the Olympic ceremony, I'm not gonna lie, I didn't know where in the world half the places where from, but I sorta guessed form the colour of their skin. But when it came to the U.S, the whole group was made of such a mix of Black people, Chinese people, people who's nationality I couldn't even guess, it wasn't as if they were representing the U.S.A, it was like they were representing the world.
Imagine that though. Everyone being such a mix of everything that you could no longer tell who was African, or American, or even Irish. Everyone was just from the world, and that was all that mattered.
So let the gosh dern foreigners works. Give it some time, and they might stop being foreigners altogether.
I shall leave you with this awesome video- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApcqhokPeb4&feature=plcp enjoy.
toddle loo!
-teri
Wednesday, 25 July 2012
we love brownies
Hi everyone,
So not much is happening right now so I
though would share something with you, the recipe for my browines
(that my friends love). So here it is:
525g 70% Dark Chocolate broken
into pieces
375g butter cut into chunks
4 eggs
375g brown suger
127g plain flour
1 1/2 baking powder
Method:
- Preheat oven to 160/gas 3/ fan oven 140. Grease a 13/9in tin and put baking parchment in the tin. Melt butter and chocolate in a bowl over a saucepan of boiling water, stir well and allow to cool.
- Whisk eggs and suger until pale, glossy, thick and well combined. Gently fold in thechocolate then sive in the flour and baking powder and stir gently until smooth.
- Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake in oven for 30-40 mins. Stick a cocktail stick in and it should come out clean with only a few crumbs sticking to it. Allow to cool before cutting into squares
Hope you like them let me know how it
goes you can find me on twitter @ramblingsrandom.
Talk to you soon,
Penny.
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
New Beginnings
We all have those urges when we decide to try something new -a sport, a musical instrument, a language. Some of the time it works, some of the times it just fails spectacularly and you give up -I'm sort of like that, if I don't have an initial affinity for it, I immediately say "NO! I'm NOT doing this anymore!" Like a three year old slamming down their box of crayons when they're accidentally coloured outside the lines.
But recently I've had lots of ideas of trying things out, the ones going most well are my new liking for the martial art, ninjutsu (and YES, I am learning to be a ninja, try not to be jealous) and another contact sport, kick-boxing. I like them both, they're physically active, not something I naturally go into and they're enjoyable with a group of people around me and interesting things to try out.
Languages? Pfft, I'm learning French in school, although I'd like to get better at that language instead of replying to everything with a blank expression and a mumble of "Oui" tumbling out of my mouth.
And that brings me to musical instruments. My first love -music. Everything about it, the history, the theory and most important, the piano. I've been doing piano since I was about seven going on eight, around second class, maybe first, I can't remember. But every since then, I've gotten over the whole outburst of "I'M NOT DOING PIANO ANYMORE, I DON'T LIKE IT ANYMORE!" When I was nine until I fell down over that hill and began to really really really really really really (I could go on, but I won't) like it.
However, I can't help but feel underachieved when people come out and they're like, "Yeah I can play piano, too! And guitar, and violin, and cello, and trumpet and accordian and OH! I'm starting the harp, too." I groan internally but outwardly, I try to smile and if I don't I just give them my blinking, staring expression of awe and then go on to bow down and worship them.
So, then I decide -I'll take up organ! Which I will, but those damn foot pedals are a pain in the neck and as I have realised recently, it's not that I find it difficult itself, it's the fact that I'm comparing it to piano, something I've been doing for nine, going on ten years and have gotten to quite a good standard in and then I stop and say, "It's not working" and abandon it there and then, just because I'm not necessarily good at it straight away.
It's a problem that I'm trying to get over because as I've realised recently, it has actually interfered with my job in my friend's mam's shop where I'm making sprays and posies but they just DON'T want to go right. It's me, not them, and my inability to start at the beginning again, down at the lowest rung and make my way up a year at a time. Practice makes perfect has always been my motto.
And so, this time when I'm saying that I'm taking up guitar, I'm actually going to do it. I'm quite terrible, I've only started to day (Tuesday) but I'm willing to keep working at it until I get it to a proficient level as such. We'll see how I go, I won't give up, I'm getting too stubborn at this point.
And so that's me out,
Arma.
But recently I've had lots of ideas of trying things out, the ones going most well are my new liking for the martial art, ninjutsu (and YES, I am learning to be a ninja, try not to be jealous) and another contact sport, kick-boxing. I like them both, they're physically active, not something I naturally go into and they're enjoyable with a group of people around me and interesting things to try out.
Languages? Pfft, I'm learning French in school, although I'd like to get better at that language instead of replying to everything with a blank expression and a mumble of "Oui" tumbling out of my mouth.
And that brings me to musical instruments. My first love -music. Everything about it, the history, the theory and most important, the piano. I've been doing piano since I was about seven going on eight, around second class, maybe first, I can't remember. But every since then, I've gotten over the whole outburst of "I'M NOT DOING PIANO ANYMORE, I DON'T LIKE IT ANYMORE!" When I was nine until I fell down over that hill and began to really really really really really really (I could go on, but I won't) like it.
However, I can't help but feel underachieved when people come out and they're like, "Yeah I can play piano, too! And guitar, and violin, and cello, and trumpet and accordian and OH! I'm starting the harp, too." I groan internally but outwardly, I try to smile and if I don't I just give them my blinking, staring expression of awe and then go on to bow down and worship them.
So, then I decide -I'll take up organ! Which I will, but those damn foot pedals are a pain in the neck and as I have realised recently, it's not that I find it difficult itself, it's the fact that I'm comparing it to piano, something I've been doing for nine, going on ten years and have gotten to quite a good standard in and then I stop and say, "It's not working" and abandon it there and then, just because I'm not necessarily good at it straight away.
It's a problem that I'm trying to get over because as I've realised recently, it has actually interfered with my job in my friend's mam's shop where I'm making sprays and posies but they just DON'T want to go right. It's me, not them, and my inability to start at the beginning again, down at the lowest rung and make my way up a year at a time. Practice makes perfect has always been my motto.
And so, this time when I'm saying that I'm taking up guitar, I'm actually going to do it. I'm quite terrible, I've only started to day (Tuesday) but I'm willing to keep working at it until I get it to a proficient level as such. We'll see how I go, I won't give up, I'm getting too stubborn at this point.
And so that's me out,
Arma.
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
The Rain in Ireland Stays Mainly Everywhere (not in the plain)
Taz here.
Most Irish people hate the rain.
With good reason, I guess. It's wet, and cold, and you can't hang your washing out, or even go out for that matter. Kids don't play in it, you don't tan in it, and when it comes as you're on the sidelines of a football pitch? It sucks.
(Apparently)
Everyone says the rain is awful. They moan and groan and intone that it's a holy terror and god forbid we get a bit of sun for once. It's the topic of an infinite number of conversations-all of which conclude the rain is just horrible.
Personally I think the rains pretty awesome.
And why wouldn't I? In my head, rain equals warmth. Coincidentally, it's currently pouring rain from the (figurative) heavens outside my window. I'm seated on a swingy-chair in my warm room typing away at my clonky old PC, a cup of coffee at hand. I'm comfortable. I'm cosy. I'm other nice descriptive words beginning with c which if I were bothered to think of and type out would create some nice alliteration. Point is, even though I can hear the wind and rain bashing against my window, I'm somewhere safe.
Rain, to me, acts as a physical representation of wealth. It reminds me that I'm very lucky in life, that I have comfort and security. I'm not living on the streets, or in a slum. I don't need to cower into somewhere relatively dry(er) when rain comes. I don't need to beg or scavenge for scraps of food. And assumably, if you're reading this, neither do you.
It puts things into perspective, doesn't it? It's all well and good to complain about the wet and the cold and how miserable it is, when we're going home to a heated home. And maybe you think I'm a downer for thinking like this, but to me its uplifting. Not the fact that others are wet, of course, but the fact that we're dry. It makes my grateful, and happy, and all of that other soppy stuff.
Now if you'll excuse me I think I'll go for a run. And quite literally soak up the weather of an Irish summer.
Monday, 9 July 2012
Old people and Dogs.
What? Late? Don't be silly.
But I have a somewhat genuine excuse this time. I was making old people happy with my Aunt and her dog. No seriously, I really was.
My Aunt (let's just call her Kay) came to me with the idea a couple weeks ago. She'd seen an add in the church bulletin for ''Pet Therapy'' down at local nursing home, and thought it was a brilliant idea. Only problem was that she needed someone to hold her dog, benjy, in the car. So that's were I come in as the somwhat willing volunteer.
Now, I know I sound kinda selfish in saying ''somewhat willing'' volunteer. But trust me, you don't know Benjy. He's not exactly one of those tiny fluffy white puppies that stare at you with their golden brown eyes. Oh no. As Kay calls him, he's a typical little boy. Scruffy black and brown hair, less than a foot tall, and some sort of terrier (possibly austrailian) you wouldn't think he was capable of any mischief. But trust me, that dog can bark. Loudly. Never snap or bite, just bark. Loudly. And a lot.
Kay is one of those people who is a real mommy to her pets; she loves him unconditionally, spoils him ,and refuses to see any fault in him no matter what anyone says. Telling her that bringing Benjy wasn't the best idea would be like telling a child that there favourite toy was infected and had to be burned along with every other of it's kind.
So, needless to say I was a bit apprehensive about bringing him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. But I'd kinda been hoping we could bring my dog after the first trip, but I don't think they'd welcome us back with open arms if we left while trying to restrain a yelping mutt from killing anyone.
So anyway, the big day arrived, and Kay picked me up at my house before we went to pick up the little rascal. All was going well, he didn't seem to be overly comfortable on my lap, but at least he'd stayed quiet.
Until we got into town. And then suddenly, all hell breaks loose.
Just picture the scene. We're at a crossroads and the traffic lights are red. I have benjy in a headlock, as he howls and wringles, trying to get out of the metal box. Kay is beside me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Benjy's head saying in a sickenly sweet voice ''There we go benjy, we're almost there. You've been a good boy haven't you? We're nearly there now.''
Thankfully, she soon pulled into the car park of the Nursing Home, snapped on his lead after a bit of grappling, opened the car door as I let him leap out of my arms and onto to the tarmac. Then, silence.
When Benjy had had a good sniff around, we made our way to the reception. After that it's just a blur of ''Aw, look at the wee thing it's so cute!'', large grey hands fumbling to touch, photos, and getting tangled in the lead.
I was surprised to see how amazed they all seemed. I was guessing that loads of people had been coming down. After all, it was in the church bulletin. In Ireland, if you want to get news out quick locally, just put it in the church bulletin. But we found out on our second visit (that time was with my dog) that we were the only ones that had come.
well, I guess that's all for this week. Toddle loo guys!
-teri
But I have a somewhat genuine excuse this time. I was making old people happy with my Aunt and her dog. No seriously, I really was.
My Aunt (let's just call her Kay) came to me with the idea a couple weeks ago. She'd seen an add in the church bulletin for ''Pet Therapy'' down at local nursing home, and thought it was a brilliant idea. Only problem was that she needed someone to hold her dog, benjy, in the car. So that's were I come in as the somwhat willing volunteer.
Now, I know I sound kinda selfish in saying ''somewhat willing'' volunteer. But trust me, you don't know Benjy. He's not exactly one of those tiny fluffy white puppies that stare at you with their golden brown eyes. Oh no. As Kay calls him, he's a typical little boy. Scruffy black and brown hair, less than a foot tall, and some sort of terrier (possibly austrailian) you wouldn't think he was capable of any mischief. But trust me, that dog can bark. Loudly. Never snap or bite, just bark. Loudly. And a lot.
Kay is one of those people who is a real mommy to her pets; she loves him unconditionally, spoils him ,and refuses to see any fault in him no matter what anyone says. Telling her that bringing Benjy wasn't the best idea would be like telling a child that there favourite toy was infected and had to be burned along with every other of it's kind.
So, needless to say I was a bit apprehensive about bringing him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. But I'd kinda been hoping we could bring my dog after the first trip, but I don't think they'd welcome us back with open arms if we left while trying to restrain a yelping mutt from killing anyone.
So anyway, the big day arrived, and Kay picked me up at my house before we went to pick up the little rascal. All was going well, he didn't seem to be overly comfortable on my lap, but at least he'd stayed quiet.
Until we got into town. And then suddenly, all hell breaks loose.
Just picture the scene. We're at a crossroads and the traffic lights are red. I have benjy in a headlock, as he howls and wringles, trying to get out of the metal box. Kay is beside me, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Benjy's head saying in a sickenly sweet voice ''There we go benjy, we're almost there. You've been a good boy haven't you? We're nearly there now.''
Thankfully, she soon pulled into the car park of the Nursing Home, snapped on his lead after a bit of grappling, opened the car door as I let him leap out of my arms and onto to the tarmac. Then, silence.
When Benjy had had a good sniff around, we made our way to the reception. After that it's just a blur of ''Aw, look at the wee thing it's so cute!'', large grey hands fumbling to touch, photos, and getting tangled in the lead.
I was surprised to see how amazed they all seemed. I was guessing that loads of people had been coming down. After all, it was in the church bulletin. In Ireland, if you want to get news out quick locally, just put it in the church bulletin. But we found out on our second visit (that time was with my dog) that we were the only ones that had come.
well, I guess that's all for this week. Toddle loo guys!
-teri
Friday, 29 June 2012
stufff :P
Hey everyone penny here,
Sorry that I miss the blog last time i
was so busy and my internet and i had a disagreement, but fear not
my comrades have decide that since i missed th blog last time that i
will be doing 2 this week so my first one will explain why I am busy.
So you know when u at that age where
parents decide its time u earned ur own money well thats what my mom
thinks so i started working for her which is grand we get onok as
much as u can with parents. Then came work expeicence and i decided
why not try a restaurant cuz I like cooking so I did and i got in to
a kitchen and that was good and then they offer me a job. So long
story short im working 2 jobs and it is tireing then I have a lack
of working internet and a very bad memory and that my dears is how I
miss my last blog so I am very sorry to any of u who went to read my
blog and there was none there :(.
Now on a happy but sad not i am going
to talk about the westlife farwell concert. I know there are people
out there who hate westlife and are happy that they have split up but
me, Personally I like westlife now im not one of those people who
bawled their eyes out im not that kind of person but what ever to
each their own. I in all honesty have to say that the concert was
brillent. Jedward even though im not a fan we good and The Wanted
were amazing and so were one of the supporting acts Lawson( follow
them on twitter cuz they are amazing and hot and british ;)). Then as
always westlife to ages to take to the stage making sure all their
fans were nice and wet before they went on but as Nicky said “all
the colourful rain coats just add to the night”.The lads each said
a few words inbetween songs, some of the songs included pussy
catdolls dont'cha, that was an intersting song to hear them sing and
watch them dance to. Then came the emotional part of the night when
they said their final goodbyes and thank you's. 2 more songs and that
was it westlife had officaly ended after 14 years togeather all i can
say is wow and i will miss you westlife.
Thanks for reading im off to read some
books so chat soon
yours truly
penny ;)
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Astrology
It's one of those things you either love, or hate.
Me? I love astrology! When I was younger, I got really into it and the personality types associated with the different star signs, and found myself really identifying with my own star sign along with my friends to theirs.
At the same time, however much I want to believe it's true, I know it's pure shh- sugar. That doesn't mean I can't still enjoy it and saying, "Ooh, that's so me!"
It also helps when one of your best friends is equally obsessed with it and rushes to find the star sign of that particular boy she's after, just to see if they are compatible. This is an interesting topic for me, compatibility with star signs -I really do feel as if it applies, and I know it's quite idiotic to think so, but I can't help but always refer to my cousin and his girlfriend of twelve years, still going strong and married now. They are, lo and behold, Capricorn and Taurus -apparently one of the best matched, if not the best matched, couples in the zodiac.
It always makes me wonder about it, and so, for you own interest I'll send you to a really good website where you can look at the personality traits allocated to your sign! (astrologycom.com)
One thing you may have noticed about the Zodiac is the allocation of the specific elements associated with each of the signs. There are four elements; fire, air, water and earth. Each has three star signs, and within these groups, you will find your two best matches.
Also, in the compatibility of things, the Fire and Air signs are quite compatible just as Earth and Water signs are quite compatible and interchangeable with each other.
Air Signs:
Aquarius, Gemini, Libra
Fire Signs:
Aries, Leo, Sagittarius
Earth Signs:
Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo
Water Signs:
Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio
AND SO, I hope I've given you something to explore and take an interest in! It's fun, and I love reading up on it because it's really interesting. There's lots more to do with it, like ruling planets, associations with different body parts and so much more!
It's something fun that I like, so I thought I'd share it with you.
Til next month,
Arma
Thursday, 14 June 2012
¿Podría repetirlo?
Taz here.
Did you know Spanish is the second most spoken language in the world? (After Chinese, of course. (What, did you think I was going to say English? (Ha, Wikipedia, my trusty advisor, says the most spoken lingo is Mandarin Chinese -thus it is so)))
I'm just home from Salou, a tourist-ridden touristy town thing, (Alliteration!) which bestowed many things upon me.
1. Firstly, a glorious bikini tan. (Alright it's a bikini burn but you have to give these things time)
2. A small (huge) community of freckles who have taken up residence on my skin.
3. An instilled belief that I can amass a loyal group of child followers no matter where I go in life.
4. A gorgeous bag. (That one wasn't bestowed on me, in fact money was given in exchange for it)
5. And finally, the understanding that foreign languages honestly sound a bit angry when you don't understand them.
Spanish is just so passionate, isn't it? (That may or may not be a genuine question-how the hell would I know the answer?) And it's spoken so fast too. Let me tell you, when you overhear a Spanish conversation on a bus-and the passengers are behind you, so you can't see them-you can become perplexed as to whether they're really happy and having a boisterous conversation, or trading bitchy comments back and forth. (Either way though, you're concern is probably why they're talking so loudly on a packed bus-privacy mustn't be an issue)
Getting to the point, I decided it was about time I learnt some Spanish. I intend to travel one day, (and not to tourist-ridden touristy town things) so it was bound to come in handy. (Being the second most spoken language in the world, that is) So I downloaded the library's iSpeak Spanish CD, and am starting to learn basic Spanish.
Me llama Emma, encantado de conocerlo. Entiendo poco de espanol. (There should be a squiggly thing on top of the n, btw) Adíos!
Did you know Spanish is the second most spoken language in the world? (After Chinese, of course. (What, did you think I was going to say English? (Ha, Wikipedia, my trusty advisor, says the most spoken lingo is Mandarin Chinese -thus it is so)))
I'm just home from Salou, a tourist-ridden touristy town thing, (Alliteration!) which bestowed many things upon me.
1. Firstly, a glorious bikini tan. (Alright it's a bikini burn but you have to give these things time)
2. A small (huge) community of freckles who have taken up residence on my skin.
3. An instilled belief that I can amass a loyal group of child followers no matter where I go in life.
4. A gorgeous bag. (That one wasn't bestowed on me, in fact money was given in exchange for it)
5. And finally, the understanding that foreign languages honestly sound a bit angry when you don't understand them.
Spanish is just so passionate, isn't it? (That may or may not be a genuine question-how the hell would I know the answer?) And it's spoken so fast too. Let me tell you, when you overhear a Spanish conversation on a bus-and the passengers are behind you, so you can't see them-you can become perplexed as to whether they're really happy and having a boisterous conversation, or trading bitchy comments back and forth. (Either way though, you're concern is probably why they're talking so loudly on a packed bus-privacy mustn't be an issue)
Getting to the point, I decided it was about time I learnt some Spanish. I intend to travel one day, (and not to tourist-ridden touristy town things) so it was bound to come in handy. (Being the second most spoken language in the world, that is) So I downloaded the library's iSpeak Spanish CD, and am starting to learn basic Spanish.
Me llama Emma, encantado de conocerlo. Entiendo poco de espanol. (There should be a squiggly thing on top of the n, btw) Adíos!
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Call me maybe- dissected
Hi guys, teri here.
I'm not late, pft, what?
anyway, for this blog I thought I would change it up a bit, by dealing with the slightly-to-old-for-me-too-bother-but-I'm-going-to-bother-anyway, call me maybe by carly rae jepsen. because i'm sure there's no way you're all sick of this song yet(/sarcasm) lets have a looksies shall we?
I threw a wish in the well,
Technically, you throw a coin in a well, but ok, we'll let her away with it.
Don't ask me,I'll never tell
ok, so she's playing by the rule; if you say your wish, it won't come true. fair enough.
I looked to you as it fell,
wait, what happened to 'don't ask me I'll never tell'? she's basically just said what she wished for! *sigh* silly girl.
and now you're in my way
this is a line that is sung repeatedly throughout the song. honestly, that guy should just give her some space, jeez...
I trade my soul for a wish,
okay, well she's pretty serious all of a sudden.
pennies and dimes for a kiss
wait, so she'd trade her soul for a wish but just pennies and dimes for a kish? lucky guy. maybe she didn't wish for him at all, maybe she just wanted a pony...
I wasn't looking for this,
see what I'm saying? she wasn't looking for a guy, she just wants a pony!
but now you're in my way
just get out of her way son! she wants her pony!
Your stare was holdin',
ok, kinda creepy.
Ripped jeans, skin was showin'
I love how her definition of 'skin was showing' is a wee bit of skin on his legs.
Hot night, wind was blowin'
hot night, wind was blowing?how was it a hot night if it was windy? maybe she's trying to be poetic?
Where you think you're going, baby?
so, by the sound of it, he's finally gotten out of her way and now she wants him back? make up your mind child! and now we move onto the Chorus
Hey, I just met you,
and this is crazy,
but here's my number,
so call me, maybe?
so basically she's just given some random dude her number. smart move, I'm sure it won't end badly.
It's hard to look right, at you baby,
is he really that ugly?
but here's my number, so call me, maybe? And all the other boys, try to chase me,
whoa whoa whoa wait hold up for a second there? all the other boys? What kind of girl has ''all the other boys'' chasing her? stop being so selfish and go for one of them!
but here's my number, so call me, maybe?
You took your time with the call,
whoa, plot developement. he actually called her? surprise surprise.
I took no time with the fall
ok, I like that, that was quite clever, good job Carly!
(or whoever actually wrote this song)
You gave me nothing at all,
Girl, you've literally just met him and you're looking for presents? give him some time!
but still, you're in my way
oh brilliant, he's in her way again.
I beg, and borrow and steal
Jesus, calm down, I'm sure he'll call again! or you can just assert your independence as a twenty-first century woman and you call him back! you go girl!
At first sight and it's real
ok, you keep believing that honey. Maybe get to know him a little first? no? of course not, that would involve sense..
I didn't know I would feel it,
I don't think she really needs the 'it' there considering 'real' doesn't rhyme with 'feel it'. Also I would have enjoyed mocking her for saying 'I didn't know I would feel'.
but it's in my way
just walk around him! my god!
and then it's the chorus again, and then there's this:
Before you came into my life I missed you so bad I missed you so bad I missed you so, so bad
wh-what? before she knew he existed, she missed him? Is she psychic or something? In which why the hell are you writing cheesy love songs about giving your number to random rapist when you could be improving the world! my god girl. have a heart!!
and then the chorus repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and then it ends..
and just for the record, I'm not hating on Carly, I quite liked the song when it first came out, then it became popular and I started hating it, then it grew on me again because I was hearing it non-stop, then it started to annoy me again becuase I was hearing it non-stop.
so yeah remember to rate the video, comment the- I mean bye.
-teri
I'm not late, pft, what?
anyway, for this blog I thought I would change it up a bit, by dealing with the slightly-to-old-for-me-too-bother-but-I'm-going-to-bother-anyway, call me maybe by carly rae jepsen. because i'm sure there's no way you're all sick of this song yet(/sarcasm) lets have a looksies shall we?
I threw a wish in the well,
Technically, you throw a coin in a well, but ok, we'll let her away with it.
Don't ask me,I'll never tell
ok, so she's playing by the rule; if you say your wish, it won't come true. fair enough.
I looked to you as it fell,
wait, what happened to 'don't ask me I'll never tell'? she's basically just said what she wished for! *sigh* silly girl.
and now you're in my way
this is a line that is sung repeatedly throughout the song. honestly, that guy should just give her some space, jeez...
I trade my soul for a wish,
okay, well she's pretty serious all of a sudden.
pennies and dimes for a kiss
wait, so she'd trade her soul for a wish but just pennies and dimes for a kish? lucky guy. maybe she didn't wish for him at all, maybe she just wanted a pony...
I wasn't looking for this,
see what I'm saying? she wasn't looking for a guy, she just wants a pony!
but now you're in my way
just get out of her way son! she wants her pony!
Your stare was holdin',
ok, kinda creepy.
Ripped jeans, skin was showin'
I love how her definition of 'skin was showing' is a wee bit of skin on his legs.
Hot night, wind was blowin'
hot night, wind was blowing?how was it a hot night if it was windy? maybe she's trying to be poetic?
Where you think you're going, baby?
so, by the sound of it, he's finally gotten out of her way and now she wants him back? make up your mind child! and now we move onto the Chorus
Hey, I just met you,
and this is crazy,
but here's my number,
so call me, maybe?
so basically she's just given some random dude her number. smart move, I'm sure it won't end badly.
It's hard to look right, at you baby,
is he really that ugly?
but here's my number, so call me, maybe? And all the other boys, try to chase me,
whoa whoa whoa wait hold up for a second there? all the other boys? What kind of girl has ''all the other boys'' chasing her? stop being so selfish and go for one of them!
but here's my number, so call me, maybe?
You took your time with the call,
whoa, plot developement. he actually called her? surprise surprise.
I took no time with the fall
ok, I like that, that was quite clever, good job Carly!
(or whoever actually wrote this song)
You gave me nothing at all,
Girl, you've literally just met him and you're looking for presents? give him some time!
but still, you're in my way
oh brilliant, he's in her way again.
I beg, and borrow and steal
Jesus, calm down, I'm sure he'll call again! or you can just assert your independence as a twenty-first century woman and you call him back! you go girl!
At first sight and it's real
ok, you keep believing that honey. Maybe get to know him a little first? no? of course not, that would involve sense..
I didn't know I would feel it,
I don't think she really needs the 'it' there considering 'real' doesn't rhyme with 'feel it'. Also I would have enjoyed mocking her for saying 'I didn't know I would feel'.
but it's in my way
just walk around him! my god!
and then it's the chorus again, and then there's this:
Before you came into my life I missed you so bad I missed you so bad I missed you so, so bad
wh-what? before she knew he existed, she missed him? Is she psychic or something? In which why the hell are you writing cheesy love songs about giving your number to random rapist when you could be improving the world! my god girl. have a heart!!
and then the chorus repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and repeats, and then it ends..
and just for the record, I'm not hating on Carly, I quite liked the song when it first came out, then it became popular and I started hating it, then it grew on me again because I was hearing it non-stop, then it started to annoy me again becuase I was hearing it non-stop.
so yeah remember to rate the video, comment the- I mean bye.
-teri
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Referendum to be YET ANOTHER Lisbon Treaty?
Yes, I know, boring topic of conversation. Mind blowingly boring topic of conversation, but as you may know if you're living in Ireland (or even if you're not, you can see how we're doing) there is another referendum to be voted on.
And everyone immediately sighs forlornly and thinks back to the last treaty that the E.U. pushed our way eagerly like the Irish do with food to their guests. Only, unlike food, this wasn't an inviting plate of toasty warm stew, it was cold, bland and spit-it-right-back-out nonsense you get at your school canteen.
No one remembers the last treaty joyfully, I suppose you could say it was catsatrophic. Everyone voted no and so, in an effort to please the E.U., the Government forced it down out throats again. This didn't end well, to say the least -the Irish, of course, threw on their defensive scowls and sarcastic mockery and even those who had voted Yes, began saying they were voting No.
It went through. May I suggest something went wrong in counting those ballots.....?
But on more recent topics, we have the new plate of food pushed our way, surprisingly more appetising looking, like that one time you try the canteen just once more and you think, this might not be so bad. Well, now that I am of an age to actually understand all this economic non sense we got ourselves into, I thought I might as well try and explain it to you.
But first, I had to understand it. Easier said than done, may I say.
I looked it up on the internet to say the least, like I do with everything I don't understand, (A bad habit to say the least, especially when you're an impressionable first year....) and I read through it. It was more inviting looking than I first thought it would be, to tell you the truth.
So I worked my way through it, reading over stuff twice and thrice over just so that I wouldn't make any fumbles in explaining it to you. It's called the Fiscal Stability Treaty and honestly, it doesn't seem so bad. If you support slashing government spending with a Spanish machete meaning that hospitals, schools and all those employed by the government will suffer.
I suppose you could say in response to that, the government doesn't spend much on hospitals and schools anyway, which is a fair point seeing as all hospitals seem to be closing down one by one. People may also say, good enough for those civil servants! Doing nothing and getting paid more than the ministers, another good point on which nearly every Irish person feels inclined to mention every political conversation.
However, it's not as bad as you'd think despite all the impending cuts if it does go through.
To put it straight, Ireland's in a bad way. Seriously bad.... I mean we need a Youth Cafe and the situation Ireland is in is worse than that. We spend too much and our government income just isn't sufficient to cover all this. E.U. , who may not be the most sympathetic of councils at the best of times, are forcing us to pull in our belts and make those cuts so that maybe we'll get out of this slump.
So, the big question -Yes or No. Those who are eighteen and over will all be stepping into those booths; a pen and paper in hand, but those pens may be the most powerful tool they have in that moment. As they finally closed over the curtain behind them, they'll stare down at the ballot paper. Bite their pens. A sweat might break and finally they'll check a box.
Yes.
or.
No.
So, which is it.....
Cuts in spending close to that of a machete-yielding ninja that will at the least help us out of this crisis or increasing debt upon increasing debt and life staying like this, floating in a bad situation and getting worse.
Now, this blog is too long, so go vote or tell people to vote, OK?
-Arma
And everyone immediately sighs forlornly and thinks back to the last treaty that the E.U. pushed our way eagerly like the Irish do with food to their guests. Only, unlike food, this wasn't an inviting plate of toasty warm stew, it was cold, bland and spit-it-right-back-out nonsense you get at your school canteen.
No one remembers the last treaty joyfully, I suppose you could say it was catsatrophic. Everyone voted no and so, in an effort to please the E.U., the Government forced it down out throats again. This didn't end well, to say the least -the Irish, of course, threw on their defensive scowls and sarcastic mockery and even those who had voted Yes, began saying they were voting No.
It went through. May I suggest something went wrong in counting those ballots.....?
But on more recent topics, we have the new plate of food pushed our way, surprisingly more appetising looking, like that one time you try the canteen just once more and you think, this might not be so bad. Well, now that I am of an age to actually understand all this economic non sense we got ourselves into, I thought I might as well try and explain it to you.
But first, I had to understand it. Easier said than done, may I say.
I looked it up on the internet to say the least, like I do with everything I don't understand, (A bad habit to say the least, especially when you're an impressionable first year....) and I read through it. It was more inviting looking than I first thought it would be, to tell you the truth.
So I worked my way through it, reading over stuff twice and thrice over just so that I wouldn't make any fumbles in explaining it to you. It's called the Fiscal Stability Treaty and honestly, it doesn't seem so bad. If you support slashing government spending with a Spanish machete meaning that hospitals, schools and all those employed by the government will suffer.
I suppose you could say in response to that, the government doesn't spend much on hospitals and schools anyway, which is a fair point seeing as all hospitals seem to be closing down one by one. People may also say, good enough for those civil servants! Doing nothing and getting paid more than the ministers, another good point on which nearly every Irish person feels inclined to mention every political conversation.
However, it's not as bad as you'd think despite all the impending cuts if it does go through.
To put it straight, Ireland's in a bad way. Seriously bad.... I mean we need a Youth Cafe and the situation Ireland is in is worse than that. We spend too much and our government income just isn't sufficient to cover all this. E.U. , who may not be the most sympathetic of councils at the best of times, are forcing us to pull in our belts and make those cuts so that maybe we'll get out of this slump.
So, the big question -Yes or No. Those who are eighteen and over will all be stepping into those booths; a pen and paper in hand, but those pens may be the most powerful tool they have in that moment. As they finally closed over the curtain behind them, they'll stare down at the ballot paper. Bite their pens. A sweat might break and finally they'll check a box.
Yes.
or.
No.
So, which is it.....
Cuts in spending close to that of a machete-yielding ninja that will at the least help us out of this crisis or increasing debt upon increasing debt and life staying like this, floating in a bad situation and getting worse.
Now, this blog is too long, so go vote or tell people to vote, OK?
-Arma
Friday, 18 May 2012
Squirrels
Taz here,
You may notice that it's a Friday, and typically we update on a Wednesday. Rebellious, aren't I?
Well actually, my excuses are sorta the opposite of rebellious. I was...
STUDYING.
So sue me, I study sometimes. My Leaving Cert is only two years away!
(On a side note I'm told regularly my sarcasm is atrocious (On another side note atrocious is a really fun word to say (atrocious)))
Actually I have my TY summer exams, which unfortunately involves higher level math and Irish, and do you ever just want to please your teachers? Like, "Admittably you may think I suck but I tried really hard in this test and I'M WORTHY AND CAPABLE OF BIG GIRL MATHS." You know what I mean?
Of course you do. You always get me, random stranger nodding empathetically at your computer screen.
What I actually planned to write about, before I started RANDOMLY RAMBLING oh jesus I'm so hilarious like seriously you did not see that coming hahaha literally tears was how exams have been given a stupendously stupid amount of power over our lives.
Like really, for most of us, our entire career can depend on our ability to memorize information. Not our ability to run a business, not our bedside manner, not even our intelligence, in all honestly. When whether or not you get a job is determined by the months you spend muddling through the Shakespearean language, there may be a problem. If we were to take out a calculator and start adding up every single hour you've spent over your entire lifespan studying, then take away the time you spent studying the stuff you would one day use? It's a frighteningly large number.
Think about that. Now think about squirrels. Squirrels, in my opinion, have pretty good lives. They eat and hibernate and get awww-ed at by passerbyers, though not in that particular order. I don't know about you, but at times when I'm sitting in an exam hall, on one chair with one table in rows of chairs and tables, I think about who else in the world is also taking an exam at this very moment, and combined how many hours did we ALL spend studying, and who of us will pass and who will fail and what it'll mean for our lives and jesusthat'salotofchairsandtables but more importantly, squirrels.
When did humans make lives so complicated? Wouldn’t it just be simpler to carry food in our cheeks ("for later," we'd tell the waitress) and sleep for really long periods of time and just be squirrels? Enda Kenny is fabulous and everything, but once I'm old enough to vote? The Taoiseach I'll be campaigning for will be of the rodent kind.
atrocious
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
spring rolls and shiny glass things.
I'm not exactly a journalist, but since the presentation was last night, the obligation to write about the monaghan award ceramony has fallen on me.
And you know what? past that I've actually drawn a blank. I was never any good at summaries. You should see the state of my book reports from second year. Not to mention my irish paragraphs about 'what I did over the weekend'.
You know what's a stupid phrase? 'Not to mention'. Hat to break it to you sweetheart, but you kinda just did.
anyway, back on topic.
All I can think of really is that we got a 'youth award', whatever that means,that was made of glass and was shiny. also there was a lot of pretty awesome people there, so awesome I was wondering how we even got an award. There was some really nice spring rolls as well.
So yeah it was a good night through and through.
...
yeah, I think I'll leave the journalism-ing to arma
until next time, if there is a next time.
-teri
And you know what? past that I've actually drawn a blank. I was never any good at summaries. You should see the state of my book reports from second year. Not to mention my irish paragraphs about 'what I did over the weekend'.
You know what's a stupid phrase? 'Not to mention'. Hat to break it to you sweetheart, but you kinda just did.
anyway, back on topic.
All I can think of really is that we got a 'youth award', whatever that means,that was made of glass and was shiny. also there was a lot of pretty awesome people there, so awesome I was wondering how we even got an award. There was some really nice spring rolls as well.
So yeah it was a good night through and through.
...
yeah, I think I'll leave the journalism-ing to arma
until next time, if there is a next time.
-teri
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
The Circus
Hey guys penny here,
So at the weekend, I went to see Cirque du Soleil with my family. In the show there were these two clowns that kind of reminded me of me and my sisters bickering. Then a man came on stage with an impressive six pack and he lifted himself off the ground onto poles using his hands. There was also a group of guys who had a + shaped trampoline and the had this co-ordinated bouncing act where they jumped over each other and did somersaults in the air.
After seeing this showI have decide to runaway to the the circus and join the trampoline act. Also, my dear friend, arma, is going to join the circus with me, using the piano to sound like an elephant .
Goodbye for now,
penny :P
So at the weekend, I went to see Cirque du Soleil with my family. In the show there were these two clowns that kind of reminded me of me and my sisters bickering. Then a man came on stage with an impressive six pack and he lifted himself off the ground onto poles using his hands. There was also a group of guys who had a + shaped trampoline and the had this co-ordinated bouncing act where they jumped over each other and did somersaults in the air.
After seeing this showI have decide to runaway to the the circus and join the trampoline act. Also, my dear friend, arma, is going to join the circus with me, using the piano to sound like an elephant .
Goodbye for now,
penny :P
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Show Racism the Red Card
It was Thursday the 19th of April. The four of us had been loaded into a mini-bus and sent off to the Aviva Stadium to attend an awards presentation for a competition we entered, Show Racism the Red Card -a worthwhile campaign against racism on the playing field that is so widely seen in today's sports.
We pulled up to the stadium, it's exterior as iridescent and awe-
inspiring as its classy indoors -we were happy to learn that no, we weren't going to be outside in the freezing, blustery April winds but inside in the warm, conference area.
We set up our own poster, of which we were prouder than punch and strode around to spy on our competition. To our demise, we saw a collection of quilts, beaded boards, signed plaques and videos about this campaign combating racism. To say the least, we were struck by unsurity. Even so, we realised that we weren't really there for the competition but to hear the people speak out against racism.
We were herded upstairs to a small area with seating where we all faced towards a presentation board and a man got up to speak, introducing everyone and announcing that the president himself, Michael D. Higgins would be there to talk. And so he was, but it was rather a flying visit where he was followed up the aisle by a military official, shaking the children's hands as he approached the podium and then he began to speak avidly about the topic. By the end of his speech, he didn't stick around and was led out of the area and probably out of the Aviva stadium when another host took over, guests were seated up on the little stage area to answer question and give their own experiences towards racism on the playing field.
Prizes were given out, the winners announced at long last and plaques with highly commended upon them were also given, one of which we won for ourselves. By two o'clock, we were on our way home again, leaving the Aviva stadium and Dublin altogether, pleased with ourselves and quite happy after a day out in Dublin with the president..
Yours truly,
Arma
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Howard
Taz here.
So I got a new ipod.
I know, I know. You're thinking, that doesn't sound meaningful or deep or angsty-is this the same Taz from the last few weeks?
Well it is. Sometimes I write light-hearted stuff.
Honest.
I got my first ipod at about 11-it was one of those with the touch-wheel, and let me tell you, that was a good Christmas for me. Never before had I been more happy. It was light green and very sleek looking, an electronic goodie inside an Apple box. After bullying my brother to do all the computer-connecty-stuff for me, I sat back, relaxed, and listened to some quality music.
Er- It needs to be said it was what I thought was quality music-it was actually a mixture of High School Musical and Hannah Montana. So sue me, I was a Disney Channel child.
Around two years on, it started acting up. A year or so after that, it became comatose. A vegetable.
Um, not literally or anything. It actually just totally stopped working, and I sprung on the opportunity to get my metaphor on. The point is, it was bye-bye portable music for me.
Until now.
(If this were a movie, this is the bit where the music picks up. Before that, it was a mournful tune that hinted nostalgia and dying ipods)
I caved and bought an new ipod-it arrived yesterday. (The truth is, jogging is just too boring without music.) It's an ipod Nano, this cute little square device. The back has a clip, for listening to music on the go, and the glossy cherry red surface has "Okay, who bit my apple?" engraved on it. I only have about 500 songs so far, but many a sleepless night will be spent downloading all the music I missed in the last year or so. (Notice I no longer need my brothers help)
I'm very happy with it. I named him Howard.
Happy Wednesday.
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