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 :)

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

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?

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

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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.

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.

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.