Here we go again…

It occurs to me that insomniacs are born bloggers. After all, what else are we going to do late at night when everyone around us has had the good grace to go to sleep…?

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have a separate blog for when I’m wide awake (and weird) in the wee small (tiny, in fact) hours of the morning - for fear my decreased coherence level might somehow detract from the normal standard of my online rantings. Then I console myself with the thought that all of my ranting is equally incoherent, and as such I may as well go right ahead and add to it.

So today was a Thursday and so there were dinner guests. Who in turn decided they should have a threesome with an absent friend who was belatedly propositioned over the phone. He didn’t believe what was going on. Who could blame him, really, but it ended up being his loss. A true case of looking a gift-horse in the mouth, etc.

Tomorrow brings birthdays, many of them, all at once, and one that will again make me question friendship - what constitutes one, what doesn’t, and when are you really doing a bad job of it. People get themselves stuck in cycles that are sometimes referred to as relationships but aren’t really. If you can’t remember the good times, surely it’s time to walk away? But then I suppose when the bad times are so plentiful that’s exactly when you are needed most. When do you put your own sanity first? Always? Or, never?

Rua is in good form today, which is just as well because frankly I’m not. But then today only started 3 hours ago, and maybe if I get some sleep before the rest of the country acknowledges that today has in fact begun, I may get a little saner… we’ll see…

I can’t stand the rain

Apparently at some point Tina Turner recorded a version of the song “I can’t stand the rain”… God knows where I must have been at the time, or maybe that is the version I remember and I just don’t realise it…

Anyway… this week, Autumn finally came to Ireland. Or maybe it was winter.

Monday was the greyest day in months, the sky felt like it was falling, or dropping, or dying. The sun finally gave up shining and we were left in the pits of gloom as only late autumn can bring.

Today was, naturally, worse. Maybe it was payback for me questioning the ultimate impact of global warming on our supposed ‘climate’… last week I wondered what else was going horribly wrong if it was 16 degrees celsius in Ireland in mid-October. Today I think I wished I had kept my mouth shut…

It rained. It rained and it rained and people got soaked and then they got miserably and then they took it out on each other.

I don’t know what it is about being drowned rats that turns people into such rude so-and-so-esque idiots. For a start there really should be rules, or at least laws, as regards umbrella etiquette. Not everyone is the same height, granted, but would it really take that much effort to avoid smashing umbrellas into each other?! Can you not just raise or lowers yours an inch, or better still move it to one side!!?

The best part about it of course is that in the absence of sunshine, or whatever the excuse is, the traffic gets worse, and the buses get later - or is that slower - or maybe both. So not only are we tired, and wet, and miserable, we are also late, and impatient, and frustrated. Road rage is nothing on rampant bus-stop rage.

The bus finally arrives but in itself this is little consolation. Faced with an extra half hour on a bus that is unpleasant at the best of times. Your seat is damp before you get to it, and someone larger and damper than you sits on you (or is that beside you?) as soon as you’re half-settled in your seat. Nobody will open a window so the air is even less pleasant and harder to breathe than usual. People talk louder, maybe trying to make up for their own misery, or maybe, just maybe, deliberately antagonising the new arrivals to the bus, the ones who waited in the rain longer and are that much less tolerant.

Warm showers. Never quite enough.

Boxxxxxxxx’d off

So there I was thinking the world had gone completely to shit, and of all people Keith Duffy turns up to prove me right.

In fact I don’t even want to keep talking about it. It does not deserve publicity, or support, or viewers, or airtime, or recognition.

Back to real news - Irish Voters Suck. Yes, I do mean it, from the bottom of my heart.

They decide that the way the health service is run is the most important issue in terms of who they will vote for.

They declare that FG/Lab. will almost definitely do a better job of runninig the health service (if only on the grounds that nothing could be worse than the current situation).

Then they think for a moment, and say to themselves “oh no wait, dad was an FF man”, and then, despite all that thinking, they tick the box for those overpaid pumpkins. Again.

Sunday night, maybe not a good time to judge. But then, when best?

Sudden urge to listen to grunge rock music and break things…

Walk this way

Is it really wrong of me to not appreciate the total patheticness of the atmosphere in this college?

No I didn’t think so either..

Anyway. On to other things.

Dubliner Magazine: Have you ever? By that I mean read it, seen it, bought it, worked for it?

I have to wonder what on earth’s going on with them this ’season’. Is trevor white paying no attention, or is he aware of what is being published, or does he just not get it, or does he just not care?

Mere weeks ago the blessed ragmag managed to grab the attention of the world’s media, by taking the opportunity of the ryder cup to grievously insult the best golfer in the world and in doing so pissed off half of america, not to mention the irish tourist board. Today? An article about the awfulness of getting a smear test done. And the ‘awfulness’ of having a black doctor.

In itself I could have assumed the article was misinterpreted, or maybe the tone was. But then I heard the journalist in question justifying her comments by saying “i’m a writer, i just wrote what i saw”. And there we have it. Pure, unadulterated, undiluted, ignorance.

Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

Where am I!?

God what’s going on around me. I feel so bloody old.

The saga of the new college continues. At least now I can find my classes. Not sure I can enjoy them though.

Today I went to see what’s going on with a few clubs and societies. And so far almost all of them have backfired somehow which is just typical. And also kinda funny.

I think the problem (other than my classes clashing with everything extra-curricular I have any interest in) is that I just feel so damned old. Like sitting in a meeting for the college mag and wondering if the editors (first day enthusiasm all over the place) realise that of the 45 people in front of them about 10 would still reply to emails a matter of months later and of them half probably couldn’t string a word together… as someone just pointed out to me, in relation to a very similar situation, they’re just not world-weary - or maybe that’s world-wise?

Humph. More. Later.