Monday, November 22, 2010
I am.....
I am 24. I am a graduate. I am employed. I am a patriot. I am proud of being Irish. Is Gaeilgóir mé. I am informed. I am incensed. I am a citizen of a country who elected buffoons. I am European. I am being squeezed out of my country. I am saddened by this government's ignorance. I M F. I am righteously angered by it. I am a believer in the incredible capacity of the Irish population. I am a citizen of a country which is fiscally bankrupt. I am passionate. I am impassioned. I am a taxpayer. I am ready to emigrate. I am now a forced investor in several failed banks. I am now a forced shareholder in the largest private landowner in the modern world. I am represented by elected pub owners and under-educated landowners who pass seats through family generations. I am furious at a Government who gave away oil to Shell. I am disgusted at the actions of rabble rousing leftists who turned that farce into a riot. I am not to be pitied. I am scheming. I am not ready to turn the other cheek. I, most crucially of all, am a vote.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
The art of giving up.
The Art of Giving Up
by Dyske Suematsu • November 5, 2006
One winter night, one of the few Japanese friends I had in my early 20s was playing a guitar at his company Christmas party. He was an architect and was about 10 years older than I was. Before he decided to study architecture, he was making a living as a guitarist in Japan. This was not the first time I heard him play, but I was still stunned by how good he was. After his performance, I told him that it was a shame that he was no longer pursuing his musical career. He then shared with me his recent realization that life is a process of giving up. At the time, I didn’t think much of what he said. I think I remembered it only because of its unusual reversal of the popularly held beliefs. Especially on this land of dreams, “giving up” is seen almost as sacrilegious. Everyone’s livelihood seems to precariously hinge on holding big, albeit distant dreams. For some people, the more dreams, the better. So, what did my friend mean when he said that life is a process of giving up?
Now, I not only understand it, but also believe it myself. Another way of saying the same thing is that life is a process of letting go of your own ego, or letting go of your attachments. Contrary to what one might assume from the connotations of the expression “giving up”, this is done in order to enjoy life more. For instance, you cannot enjoy alcohol if you are attached (or addicted) to it. Enjoyment of anything requires a certain distance. When the idea of self (ego) is attached to the object of enjoyment, you lose the ability to see it for what it is. I believe this is partly responsible for the phenomenon called “writer’s block”, in which the identity “writer” is attached to one’s ego so much that the fear of losing that identity becomes greater than the enthusiasm for writing. It is by giving up the idea of becoming a “writer” that one is able to be a writer and enjoy being one. This is difficult to do especially in a country where one’s existence is defined by one’s profession. The fear of not living up to the reputation of the greatest American writer is probably what killed the writer in Truman Capote, for instance.
“Giving up,” in this sense, isn’t the same as quitting. My friend was still playing guitar; he just wasn’t pursuing it professionally. Most alcoholics cannot enjoy alcohol in moderation; they have to quit entirely. In the same way, when you are attached to something, your choices are either to quit altogether or to depend on it for life. Either way, it is not enjoyable. It is also common to see aspiring artists, musicians, and actors entirely drop their activities once they come to a conclusion that they are not going to make it. At that point, it becomes clear that the driving force behind their creative pursuits was not their enthusiasm or passion, but their attachment to the idea of becoming someone. Or, it is also possible that whatever enthusiasm they had was overwhelmed by their fear of failure. Ironically, I believe that, if you can give up the idea of “making it,” you would have a better chance of actually making it. If you were not under pressure from your own expectations, you would enjoy your activities more, and therefore produce better work.
The big question is: Why do we develop attachments at all? As Aldous Huxley said, most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. We develop attachments and we don’t even know it. Only when we are threatened by the lack or the loss of them, do we realize how much we are attached to them. If we lose our sight, for instance, some of us would probably consider suicide, but if we think objectively about many blind people enjoying their lives, it seems silly to even be depressed about being blind. Also, why don’t animals have the same problem? A dog could lose its leg, and go on living just as happily as before. Such a dog would obviously struggle and suffer the inconvenience, but its spirit would not be affected by it. Some animals like elephants apparently exhibit the signs of depression from the loss of friends and relatives, but many animals leave their own kids behind almost as soon as they are born, and never see them again. They seem to have no attachments, and live strictly in the present moment.
This leads me to believe that there is an evolutionary reason for our tendencies to develop attachments. The more evolved the species are, the more tendencies for attachments they seem to exhibit. I suppose it is quite obvious in one sense. The more attached to one’s own life, the stronger one’s desire to survive. Natural selection, in this way, perhaps favored those humans with stronger egos. Strong egos clash and create conflicts, but these clashes of ideas and egos force better ideas to float to the top. The ideas themselves go through the process of natural selection. Without egos and attachments, this system would not work, and we as a species would be less equipped to survive.
Zen Buddhism is a process of detachment. It is so concerned with attachment that, one is discouraged from being attached to the very idea of detachment, and I can see why; because attachment actually has positive, useful functions. In this sense, Zen is not a process of detachment, but simply an understanding of what attachment is.
As I grow older and face various physical deteriorations, I’m forced to be in peace with the idea of giving up certain things in life. I could possibly refuse to accept the idea of giving up, and try running 10 miles every morning or spend hours in gym, but if my motivation for keeping up my physical strength is to be in denial, then what I’m really giving up is to have the courage to face reality. Again, this attachment to physical strength will eventually extinguish any enjoyment I might get out of exercising.
Having a child is a double-edged sword where it could expedite this process of detachment, or encourage greater attachment to one’s own ego. If you are to see your own child as an extension of your own ego, you are inclined to mold him into something you want. If you succeed at it, your child strengthens your attachment to your own ego. On the other hand, if you see your child as another person with his own ego, he provides plenty of opportunities to make your own ego objectively observable. In other words, your child becomes a useful tool for you to detach yourself from your own ego.
When you say, “I sacrifice myself for my kid,” what you really mean by it is that you are willing to make compromises between what your ego wants and what your kid’s ego wants. In an ideal world, you want your own ego to coincide with that of your kid (because he is merely an extension of your own ego.) If you had no such expectation, there would be no “sacrifice”, because the difference would be exactly what you would want in order to allow you to achieve the detachment from your own ego.
If my observations are correct, detachment allows us to enjoy life in its uncontaminated form, but attachment allows us to achieve better chances of survival as a species. It appears that the forces of evolution are acting against our desire to enjoy life. Ironic, it might seem, but life is all about the interaction of two opposing forces.
Available here http://dyske.com/paper/897
I am reminded of this because of a conversation I had with my housemate and an old acquaintance. She (my housemate) spoke of her disappointment at something lost, while he seemed to revel in the choice he made.
I'm not sure.Today I am considering removing myself from the online social networks and rebuilding my life and mind. This is not what I refer to with this post though. I miss music, I miss my photography and I miss many things. This adventure is fun, as were others though. There is a slight restlessness at the moment.
by Dyske Suematsu • November 5, 2006
One winter night, one of the few Japanese friends I had in my early 20s was playing a guitar at his company Christmas party. He was an architect and was about 10 years older than I was. Before he decided to study architecture, he was making a living as a guitarist in Japan. This was not the first time I heard him play, but I was still stunned by how good he was. After his performance, I told him that it was a shame that he was no longer pursuing his musical career. He then shared with me his recent realization that life is a process of giving up. At the time, I didn’t think much of what he said. I think I remembered it only because of its unusual reversal of the popularly held beliefs. Especially on this land of dreams, “giving up” is seen almost as sacrilegious. Everyone’s livelihood seems to precariously hinge on holding big, albeit distant dreams. For some people, the more dreams, the better. So, what did my friend mean when he said that life is a process of giving up?
Now, I not only understand it, but also believe it myself. Another way of saying the same thing is that life is a process of letting go of your own ego, or letting go of your attachments. Contrary to what one might assume from the connotations of the expression “giving up”, this is done in order to enjoy life more. For instance, you cannot enjoy alcohol if you are attached (or addicted) to it. Enjoyment of anything requires a certain distance. When the idea of self (ego) is attached to the object of enjoyment, you lose the ability to see it for what it is. I believe this is partly responsible for the phenomenon called “writer’s block”, in which the identity “writer” is attached to one’s ego so much that the fear of losing that identity becomes greater than the enthusiasm for writing. It is by giving up the idea of becoming a “writer” that one is able to be a writer and enjoy being one. This is difficult to do especially in a country where one’s existence is defined by one’s profession. The fear of not living up to the reputation of the greatest American writer is probably what killed the writer in Truman Capote, for instance.
“Giving up,” in this sense, isn’t the same as quitting. My friend was still playing guitar; he just wasn’t pursuing it professionally. Most alcoholics cannot enjoy alcohol in moderation; they have to quit entirely. In the same way, when you are attached to something, your choices are either to quit altogether or to depend on it for life. Either way, it is not enjoyable. It is also common to see aspiring artists, musicians, and actors entirely drop their activities once they come to a conclusion that they are not going to make it. At that point, it becomes clear that the driving force behind their creative pursuits was not their enthusiasm or passion, but their attachment to the idea of becoming someone. Or, it is also possible that whatever enthusiasm they had was overwhelmed by their fear of failure. Ironically, I believe that, if you can give up the idea of “making it,” you would have a better chance of actually making it. If you were not under pressure from your own expectations, you would enjoy your activities more, and therefore produce better work.
The big question is: Why do we develop attachments at all? As Aldous Huxley said, most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. We develop attachments and we don’t even know it. Only when we are threatened by the lack or the loss of them, do we realize how much we are attached to them. If we lose our sight, for instance, some of us would probably consider suicide, but if we think objectively about many blind people enjoying their lives, it seems silly to even be depressed about being blind. Also, why don’t animals have the same problem? A dog could lose its leg, and go on living just as happily as before. Such a dog would obviously struggle and suffer the inconvenience, but its spirit would not be affected by it. Some animals like elephants apparently exhibit the signs of depression from the loss of friends and relatives, but many animals leave their own kids behind almost as soon as they are born, and never see them again. They seem to have no attachments, and live strictly in the present moment.
This leads me to believe that there is an evolutionary reason for our tendencies to develop attachments. The more evolved the species are, the more tendencies for attachments they seem to exhibit. I suppose it is quite obvious in one sense. The more attached to one’s own life, the stronger one’s desire to survive. Natural selection, in this way, perhaps favored those humans with stronger egos. Strong egos clash and create conflicts, but these clashes of ideas and egos force better ideas to float to the top. The ideas themselves go through the process of natural selection. Without egos and attachments, this system would not work, and we as a species would be less equipped to survive.
Zen Buddhism is a process of detachment. It is so concerned with attachment that, one is discouraged from being attached to the very idea of detachment, and I can see why; because attachment actually has positive, useful functions. In this sense, Zen is not a process of detachment, but simply an understanding of what attachment is.
As I grow older and face various physical deteriorations, I’m forced to be in peace with the idea of giving up certain things in life. I could possibly refuse to accept the idea of giving up, and try running 10 miles every morning or spend hours in gym, but if my motivation for keeping up my physical strength is to be in denial, then what I’m really giving up is to have the courage to face reality. Again, this attachment to physical strength will eventually extinguish any enjoyment I might get out of exercising.
Having a child is a double-edged sword where it could expedite this process of detachment, or encourage greater attachment to one’s own ego. If you are to see your own child as an extension of your own ego, you are inclined to mold him into something you want. If you succeed at it, your child strengthens your attachment to your own ego. On the other hand, if you see your child as another person with his own ego, he provides plenty of opportunities to make your own ego objectively observable. In other words, your child becomes a useful tool for you to detach yourself from your own ego.
When you say, “I sacrifice myself for my kid,” what you really mean by it is that you are willing to make compromises between what your ego wants and what your kid’s ego wants. In an ideal world, you want your own ego to coincide with that of your kid (because he is merely an extension of your own ego.) If you had no such expectation, there would be no “sacrifice”, because the difference would be exactly what you would want in order to allow you to achieve the detachment from your own ego.
If my observations are correct, detachment allows us to enjoy life in its uncontaminated form, but attachment allows us to achieve better chances of survival as a species. It appears that the forces of evolution are acting against our desire to enjoy life. Ironic, it might seem, but life is all about the interaction of two opposing forces.
Available here http://dyske.com/paper/897
I am reminded of this because of a conversation I had with my housemate and an old acquaintance. She (my housemate) spoke of her disappointment at something lost, while he seemed to revel in the choice he made.
I'm not sure.Today I am considering removing myself from the online social networks and rebuilding my life and mind. This is not what I refer to with this post though. I miss music, I miss my photography and I miss many things. This adventure is fun, as were others though. There is a slight restlessness at the moment.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
A little while later, 4 things happened.
A week from hell in work, with respite still some time coming.
Some weird revelations on what people think I said.
An old "adversary" (for want of a better phrase) whose cocksure attitude led to him walking directly at me on Friday and trying to knock me with his shoulder. (bless, he is rather stupid, but everyone loves a tryhard tough guy).
A realisation that with the very last shred of something in common cut, one can only hope that a person is big enough, or the world small enough to facilitate a conversation some day.
Simultaneously too old and too young for this.
Listening to this.
Some weird revelations on what people think I said.
An old "adversary" (for want of a better phrase) whose cocksure attitude led to him walking directly at me on Friday and trying to knock me with his shoulder. (bless, he is rather stupid, but everyone loves a tryhard tough guy).
A realisation that with the very last shred of something in common cut, one can only hope that a person is big enough, or the world small enough to facilitate a conversation some day.
Simultaneously too old and too young for this.
Listening to this.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
At reason for sleeplessness.
I'm 23.
Sometimes I feel a lot older than that, having (in my opinion) amassed quite a few life experiences along the (apparently short) way.
On Friday I got the scariest news of my life. It is something I cannot control, it is something I cannot fight. It is something I do not myself directly face. I think it is this helplessness that terrifies me more.
I have had drunk posts, sad posts, reflective posts and ambitious posts here. I'm not sure where this fits in except that I am not drunk. Over the coming days and weeks as the news gets clearer I can only hope that it gets better as well, but I am so very scared.
On Friday morning I spent time worrying about work stuff, retail margins and bonuses.
Now tonight, I feel very grown up, having reached the point where roles may reverse with someone who cared for you, and at the same time feel like a terrified child in the same instant.
Sometimes I feel a lot older than that, having (in my opinion) amassed quite a few life experiences along the (apparently short) way.
On Friday I got the scariest news of my life. It is something I cannot control, it is something I cannot fight. It is something I do not myself directly face. I think it is this helplessness that terrifies me more.
I have had drunk posts, sad posts, reflective posts and ambitious posts here. I'm not sure where this fits in except that I am not drunk. Over the coming days and weeks as the news gets clearer I can only hope that it gets better as well, but I am so very scared.
On Friday morning I spent time worrying about work stuff, retail margins and bonuses.
Now tonight, I feel very grown up, having reached the point where roles may reverse with someone who cared for you, and at the same time feel like a terrified child in the same instant.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Mo Dhaideó
Today is my Grandfathers birthday. It is just over 6 years since he died, almost a year to the day after my Grandmother closed her bright eyes for the last time.
I think about them every so often, ever more since a realisation about 18 months ago that I really was no longer a child. I remember more of my Daideó than of my Mamó. There is no hidden meaning in this, I just remember more significant time spent with him at a very formative age, but then again there are moments when I remember her so clearly. I am so proud of both of them, even as a child before I knew some of the tribulations they both had, and of the obvious challenges they had in life; I was proud of them.
I am going to write about them here, in the next few days. But I want to get it all right, and for that I need more then just my memories. My mother posted a facebook status( yes my mother is on facebook and yes it means I sometimes censor things) about them and it reminded me. No matter where I go, what I do - I will always remember the house where the real front door was the back door, the garden that when I was small seemed miles long, the moped and postcards from Italy. I will never forget watching birds,seeing old things, the certain chair, trips to Islands that seemed like they were other worlds and a wonderful incident (which is still funny and probably my only real description of irony) when my daideó was grumpy at the noise in the kitchen and asked for the news to be turned up, despite the fact it was the second time he was watching it, and it was the news for the deaf.
I have 3 siblings, and each one of them is smarter and more talented than me in ways I can never describe properly, and I wish my Mamó and Daideó could see us all now.
I think about them every so often, ever more since a realisation about 18 months ago that I really was no longer a child. I remember more of my Daideó than of my Mamó. There is no hidden meaning in this, I just remember more significant time spent with him at a very formative age, but then again there are moments when I remember her so clearly. I am so proud of both of them, even as a child before I knew some of the tribulations they both had, and of the obvious challenges they had in life; I was proud of them.
I am going to write about them here, in the next few days. But I want to get it all right, and for that I need more then just my memories. My mother posted a facebook status( yes my mother is on facebook and yes it means I sometimes censor things) about them and it reminded me. No matter where I go, what I do - I will always remember the house where the real front door was the back door, the garden that when I was small seemed miles long, the moped and postcards from Italy. I will never forget watching birds,seeing old things, the certain chair, trips to Islands that seemed like they were other worlds and a wonderful incident (which is still funny and probably my only real description of irony) when my daideó was grumpy at the noise in the kitchen and asked for the news to be turned up, despite the fact it was the second time he was watching it, and it was the news for the deaf.
I have 3 siblings, and each one of them is smarter and more talented than me in ways I can never describe properly, and I wish my Mamó and Daideó could see us all now.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Mundane Adventures
Its Saturday, but oddly enough it feels like Sunday. Nothing I can do to change that, but make an effort to enjoy my "extra" free day.
A few weekends ago I had an extraordinarily grown up day. It was Sunday, I had not been out the previous night and woke feeling that particular fresh feeling that comes with having the exact right amount of sleep. Goldilocks would have been proud, it was just right.
So I woke early, did some work, cleaned my room and then went to buy a vacuum cleaner.Yes, I am getting sensible in my "old age". It had been a long week in work and an extra effort was made on my Friday night-Saturday morning to make up for that. It was the first week I felt truly comfortable with my decision to not emigrate 6 months ago, the realisation that Dublin is smaller but no less exciting then all the option that were on offer to me. Summer is coming soon and with it the bustle of Dublin ramps up as it becomes more than just a city, it develops an identity, a dual identity one Dublin for the invading tourist hordes and one for those looking for more than a pint in a pub on the long summer evenings. More and more I am seeing innovative and creative side of a generation of people stuck in ruts, with no comfortable jobs or easy credit to fund their lifestyles driving them to make their own fun.
I ramble and I digress, I was driving back towards the city centre from the North and the sun truly made Dublin look spectacular. I was driving along an avenue coming into Drumcondra and as I crested a hill the city spread out but one particular feature caught my eye. Framed between trees and the buildings on either side were three tall church steeples and they looked so simple and yet so elegant, but it was not this that struck me, as I drove closer to the city on either side as my perspective and view widened there were cranes on either side. I thought the unintentional metaphor that my city provided was striking. A juxtaposition of the old of the new, of the very old and the recently passed. Both signs of things that have fallen.
My job is tough, I am coming to realise that the more I learn and the more I do, the more there is left to do. It doesn't get easier, I just have to get better. I have explained to several people in the last fortnight that I will sacrifice what is left of my personal life to achieve what I want to achieve. Sometimes though, the other facets force precedence. I'm finally starting to enjoy that.
Also Listen to this. It is wonderful.
AS usual I leave you with an image. Traffic outside Seoul Arts Centre, Korea. December 2008
So in honour of a morning that saw bright sunshine, wide boulevards empty and springfilled, leaves and buds, a view of the snow covered mountains with church steeples; closer in the cranes appear to the right, I bid you good weekend.
A few weekends ago I had an extraordinarily grown up day. It was Sunday, I had not been out the previous night and woke feeling that particular fresh feeling that comes with having the exact right amount of sleep. Goldilocks would have been proud, it was just right.
So I woke early, did some work, cleaned my room and then went to buy a vacuum cleaner.Yes, I am getting sensible in my "old age". It had been a long week in work and an extra effort was made on my Friday night-Saturday morning to make up for that. It was the first week I felt truly comfortable with my decision to not emigrate 6 months ago, the realisation that Dublin is smaller but no less exciting then all the option that were on offer to me. Summer is coming soon and with it the bustle of Dublin ramps up as it becomes more than just a city, it develops an identity, a dual identity one Dublin for the invading tourist hordes and one for those looking for more than a pint in a pub on the long summer evenings. More and more I am seeing innovative and creative side of a generation of people stuck in ruts, with no comfortable jobs or easy credit to fund their lifestyles driving them to make their own fun.
I ramble and I digress, I was driving back towards the city centre from the North and the sun truly made Dublin look spectacular. I was driving along an avenue coming into Drumcondra and as I crested a hill the city spread out but one particular feature caught my eye. Framed between trees and the buildings on either side were three tall church steeples and they looked so simple and yet so elegant, but it was not this that struck me, as I drove closer to the city on either side as my perspective and view widened there were cranes on either side. I thought the unintentional metaphor that my city provided was striking. A juxtaposition of the old of the new, of the very old and the recently passed. Both signs of things that have fallen.
My job is tough, I am coming to realise that the more I learn and the more I do, the more there is left to do. It doesn't get easier, I just have to get better. I have explained to several people in the last fortnight that I will sacrifice what is left of my personal life to achieve what I want to achieve. Sometimes though, the other facets force precedence. I'm finally starting to enjoy that.
Also Listen to this. It is wonderful.
AS usual I leave you with an image. Traffic outside Seoul Arts Centre, Korea. December 2008
So in honour of a morning that saw bright sunshine, wide boulevards empty and springfilled, leaves and buds, a view of the snow covered mountains with church steeples; closer in the cranes appear to the right, I bid you good weekend.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Missing Things
While in College I spent an inordinate amount of time on extra curricular activities. I probably spent more time on the things I was involved in then I did on my degree. Through overnight essays, a hastily acquired skill for speed reading and not inconsequential amounts of bullshit I did get my degree.
I think of Trinity very much in the past tense now. This week sees Trinity's annual TCDSU elections, which I have seen from many different angles. I have friends running in several elections. The bloodsport element of it is lost on me this year but observing the happenings as they unfold is always interesting. Arguing about them on the internet isn't but there is always that draw to correct someone when they claim something. Online arguments are like that.
Anyway, that aside I was thinking about what I do miss and what I do not miss.
Things I miss
DU Comedy Soc and the madness associated. 118 - 1100 - 4532 and always yellow.
Trinity FM - and the radio bug, the studio, piracy and amazing music.
College Newspapers - and being opinionated
College Opinions in general
The naiveté that is inherent in living in the bubble. (Trust me none of it really matters)
Living on campus.
In fact living on campus surrounded by some of the most interesting characters I have ever met, from the lazy ones, to the insomniacs, from the 24 hour study room queens, to the last minute print kings who handed essays in 4 months late, from the neat freak dentist to the plank upstairs who thought it was ok to stamp along to céilí music at 4am.
CSC - both the place and the people who make it what it is, a temporary and transient thing that will always still be there.
Smart-Arse Campus security- there is wisdom in getting to know these chaps. (Signing in guests such as R. Haughton and J MacAteer or the ever convincing squiggle that you could claim was any name).
The hundreds of people you only ever knew to see.
Campus in Summer weather, ne'er have more beautiful girls existed than those of Trinity in the sun nor a finer place to read and watch them stroll by then the cricket pitch.
The old buttery.
The PAV (it should go without saying)- 25 can days after exams.
Those who knew whether it was a morning to be quiet around my head or not.
Front Office and the shenanagins, from football and cuntlists to travel cards and USB drive mercenaries, AMAZING customers, junkies, Simon (the lunatic is running the asylum), the fact "there is no toilet",holes in walls and usually a crowd.No maps either.
The Ed Burke- totally empty and then 45 minutes later not a seat to be had.
Library- a place full of books, and for one term a year full of students with the fear.
That it used to feel like home.
Things I don't miss
Everything and everyone else.
I think of Trinity very much in the past tense now. This week sees Trinity's annual TCDSU elections, which I have seen from many different angles. I have friends running in several elections. The bloodsport element of it is lost on me this year but observing the happenings as they unfold is always interesting. Arguing about them on the internet isn't but there is always that draw to correct someone when they claim something. Online arguments are like that.
Anyway, that aside I was thinking about what I do miss and what I do not miss.
Things I miss
DU Comedy Soc and the madness associated. 118 - 1100 - 4532 and always yellow.
Trinity FM - and the radio bug, the studio, piracy and amazing music.
College Newspapers - and being opinionated
College Opinions in general
The naiveté that is inherent in living in the bubble. (Trust me none of it really matters)
Living on campus.
In fact living on campus surrounded by some of the most interesting characters I have ever met, from the lazy ones, to the insomniacs, from the 24 hour study room queens, to the last minute print kings who handed essays in 4 months late, from the neat freak dentist to the plank upstairs who thought it was ok to stamp along to céilí music at 4am.
CSC - both the place and the people who make it what it is, a temporary and transient thing that will always still be there.
Smart-Arse Campus security- there is wisdom in getting to know these chaps. (Signing in guests such as R. Haughton and J MacAteer or the ever convincing squiggle that you could claim was any name).
The hundreds of people you only ever knew to see.
Campus in Summer weather, ne'er have more beautiful girls existed than those of Trinity in the sun nor a finer place to read and watch them stroll by then the cricket pitch.
The old buttery.
The PAV (it should go without saying)- 25 can days after exams.
Those who knew whether it was a morning to be quiet around my head or not.
Front Office and the shenanagins, from football and cuntlists to travel cards and USB drive mercenaries, AMAZING customers, junkies, Simon (the lunatic is running the asylum), the fact "there is no toilet",holes in walls and usually a crowd.No maps either.
The Ed Burke- totally empty and then 45 minutes later not a seat to be had.
Library- a place full of books, and for one term a year full of students with the fear.
That it used to feel like home.
Things I don't miss
Everything and everyone else.
Monday, January 11, 2010
How dare we
I haven't an epiphany in a while. An old friend used to remind me that I shouldn't take them, because they are bad for your heart.
I write this evening, sitting on my couch feeling stupid. I feel stupid because I moped and have been melancholy for some time now. Ive taken this out on the easiest of targets, past acquaintances, my slightly useless housemate and myself.
On New Years Eve I was glassed and ended up with stitches and two broken teeth. Wounds heal even if they scar but it was the reaction of some people that really stung. Friends who told me I was in the wrong for involving the Gardaí, friends who didn't care and the strangers on the street that look at you a little differently when you are almost two metres tall and look like a thug because some muppet smashed a glass in your face.
Cuts are healing now, and my teeth have been fixed. Prognosis is 50-50 on permanent scarring. I have no delusions that I was pretty, but facial scarring isn't cool.
So I have felt sorry for myself, made excuses. Tonight that ends. This is the simplest and most complicated epiphany. Ne'er more can I expect leniency, I should demand more of myself professionally, personally and emotionally.
My generation (social as well as in age) is one that has ill defined parameters. We have no great struggle, no great war, no real social movement other than communication and opinion. Dis-illusion and apathy are rife and cynicism is not only acceptable but fashionable and near mandatory. How dare we assume that excellence is not to be demanded, why should we make do? I want to snap out of the rut. I am by most measures on the track to success and I am in the mood to steer that track in a decidedly upward direction. This evening has given me a sense of clarity I have missed in the past few weeks.
The jigsaw is getting bigger, I am missing one particular piece I lost a while ago but the picture becomes clearer day by day.
Every so often things seem grim. Ignore the sentimentality and make a comparison with whats bothering you. http://tinyurl.com/yf3z9xe #finishstrong
'I got home at last and crawled into bed next to my girlfriend. I told her I'd had an epiphany that night [about using stencils] and she told me to stop taking that drug 'cos it's bad for your heart.'
"Wall and Piece" Banksy
I write this evening, sitting on my couch feeling stupid. I feel stupid because I moped and have been melancholy for some time now. Ive taken this out on the easiest of targets, past acquaintances, my slightly useless housemate and myself.
On New Years Eve I was glassed and ended up with stitches and two broken teeth. Wounds heal even if they scar but it was the reaction of some people that really stung. Friends who told me I was in the wrong for involving the Gardaí, friends who didn't care and the strangers on the street that look at you a little differently when you are almost two metres tall and look like a thug because some muppet smashed a glass in your face.
Cuts are healing now, and my teeth have been fixed. Prognosis is 50-50 on permanent scarring. I have no delusions that I was pretty, but facial scarring isn't cool.
So I have felt sorry for myself, made excuses. Tonight that ends. This is the simplest and most complicated epiphany. Ne'er more can I expect leniency, I should demand more of myself professionally, personally and emotionally.
My generation (social as well as in age) is one that has ill defined parameters. We have no great struggle, no great war, no real social movement other than communication and opinion. Dis-illusion and apathy are rife and cynicism is not only acceptable but fashionable and near mandatory. How dare we assume that excellence is not to be demanded, why should we make do? I want to snap out of the rut. I am by most measures on the track to success and I am in the mood to steer that track in a decidedly upward direction. This evening has given me a sense of clarity I have missed in the past few weeks.
The jigsaw is getting bigger, I am missing one particular piece I lost a while ago but the picture becomes clearer day by day.
Every so often things seem grim. Ignore the sentimentality and make a comparison with whats bothering you. http://tinyurl.com/yf3z9xe #finishstrong
'I got home at last and crawled into bed next to my girlfriend. I told her I'd had an epiphany that night [about using stencils] and she told me to stop taking that drug 'cos it's bad for your heart.'
"Wall and Piece" Banksy
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