throw a stone and watch the ripples flow…

everybody: 0    |    the limit: 1

…rain is wonderful but sometimes it is nice when the sky is blue.

it’s very strange how moving can rekindle some relationships that were starting to vaguely, subtly die off. it has been surprising, random, and completely caught me off guard, but i definitely approve of this one side effect.

there’s too much packing. the front room is so full of boxes it’s pretty much impossible to walk into it from either direction. giz and i spent the afternoon with keith the other day; as we were about to head back he asked what we were up to for the rest of the evening. 
‘don’t say packing,’ he said.
i’ve had enough of it, i think.

so last night at around quarter to nine i had a lovely experience with overly aggressive girls who looked to be about fifteen. they could have been older, but they looked fifteen and they were about my height.

i was walking down the rock road to meet a few people at the punch bowl, which is pretty much right across from the dart station. so as i was walking up, i saw tim in front of me, walking up from the dart station. there were a three girls following him, but i wasn’t really paying attention and hannah rang me just then to say she was just up the road, so i stopped for a moment to chat with her. by the time i hung up, tim had crossed the road and gone into the punch bowl and the girls were walking towards me.

so i kept walking towards the intersection, and all the sudden one of the girls was blocking my way. at first i thought she’d accidentally walked into me, so i tried to get around her, but when she wouldn’t let me i looked up.
‘give me two euro,’ she said.
i blanked. not very demanding, this one. but seriously? in broad daylight? with pretty heavy traffic? ‘i don’t have two euro,’ i said and tried to get past her again.
‘i said,’ she pushed me a little, ‘give me two euro.’
i didn’t want to push her, but i needed her to move and figured i had enough time to get to the light and cross the road, so i told her to feck off.
which probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but i didn’t know what else to do. she kind of stepped back a little, looked a little shocked. ‘did you just tell me to feck off?’
but she’d moved, which was what i wanted, so i ignored her and kept walking, reached the traffic light.

there was a flock of cars moving towards us and just after that enough space between for me to cross, so i wasn’t terribly worried, but then the girl’s two friends started advancing towards me, and i’m not going to lie, my heart started beating a little faster.

they weren’t knackers – at least by their accents – sounded like they could be D4s, but they didn’t have make-up caked on their faces. but the thought did cross my mind that they possibly could pull a knife. that may be a bit ludicrous though, broad daylight, heavy traffic, etc…

but anyway, the two came up and started pushing me around, saying ‘who’re you telling to feck off?’ and i just ignored them, even though i was starting to get angry, waiting for that flock of cars to pass. and then one of them full on slapped me.

thank goodness the road was clear to cross because i think at that point i could have erupted a bit. i pushed her away from me, stepped to the edge of the road, glared at her, and said, ‘don’t touch me again.’
‘or you’ll what?’ she yelled as i crossed.

thankfully they didn’t follow me, but i was seething and my face was stinging. apart from that a part of me really wanted to go and prove to her that it hadn’t been an empty threat and that i am the incredible hulk and they do not want to make me angry. and the other part of me was a little upset and a little scared, and a lot angry.

tim came running out at that point, said he’d just seen them with me through the window. apparently, they’d been on the dart with him and gotten out with him, and started pushing him around as well. the whole side of his face was red too. apparently your one favours the left pretty heavily.

when everyone else arrived we made light of it, turned it into sort of a joke, but i’m not going to lie, i was a bit shaken. even though it wasn’t so terribly serious – broad daylight and there were cars. and people in them. lots of people. and a man just down the road who looked like he picked up his pace when he saw them coming toward me. and by the sound of it tim had it a little worse than i did as well. so really, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

anyway, i should probably get on to packing…want to get something done before frisbee…

and another encounter has come and passed, at least the sonship part of it. it seems every year i go thinking there’s no way i’ll be able to become as attached to the new group as the last…and every year without fail by the end there i am just as much so as ever.

time is going too quickly. this morning leaving the y was a flurry, i could hardly believe that the sonship part of encounter was over. and now i look at the calendar and i see there is very little time left and i begin to panic a little every time i think about it.

last night we played one last frisbee game - got all hot and sweaty and then rushed into the sea – which was of course shockingly freezing and yet we stayed in a good twenty minutes – and then ran (as best as we could seeing as our muscles were not functioning properly) to shower, from there gathered to go to the pub, from the pub sat in the y, talking, with alec playing guitar. perfectly wonderful typical evening in greystones.

i always love getting out of the sea – the initial heat and burning sensation when you pull yourself out - and then the gradual hardening of muscles so that they’re sore and unable to move, then the shivering and shaking - but it’s not even that…it’s that i guess i feel so much more aware of everything after i’ve gotten out of the sea – the air, not the breeze, the actual air, the touch of the street on bare feet, the feel of the towel. it’s like my skin is an actual being unto itself – living and breathing and thinking and believing.

they weren’t cows inside. they were waiting to be, but they forgot. now they see sky again and they remember what they are. 

some days i believe in people more strongly than others. these past two weeks it has been believing in people every day. tonight, though, i sit and think this week may not be so wonderful. tonight i sit and dread not believing in people.
i love believing in people. and it makes it that much harder on the days where it is difficult to believe.

there is such a lovely poetry of being with people…of experiencing people and how they’ve changed and moved in four years, four summers. three, even. or even simply two weeks.

i wish i was going on an o-team. everyone asks. it is hard, being with people, and then watching them go off with each other, experience things and situations and everything together, and come back all the tighter, closer.

four weeks is a very short time.

we’ll have to see how this turns out because internet connection’s a bit on the iffy side today…

valedictory night was on monday night – and of course bono, U2, patrick kavanagh, and the like were all quoted liberally during the course of the hour and a half. and we were all shocked that our headmaster didn’t drone on about amy martin for half of the time – which is what he did for the ib special assembly the day we finished school:
‘..oh yes and well done to our ib students for finishing school…now amy martin is playing in golden discs today – ‘
etc etc etc for ten minutes while we stood there kind of awkwardly. which would have been fine if he’d come to the whole fifteen minutes or so of the assembly – but he arrived late, made a passing comment to say goodbye to us all, and then raved about amy martin, so that was what was awkward, really. but then again, there was still valedictory night coming, so i guess, it wasn’t so tacky. we weren’t terribly offended, more just found it funny and typical.

but monday night was good – even with the half-dead trees on either side of the stage – and very eMOtional. plus we were able to slag off the leaving certs because they’ve not even started exams and we’re finished. and then afterwards we all went dancing so we were happy.

i find it rather weird – there are so many people i see all the time that i feel like i know very well and yet have never spoken to before. like when i’d walk to school, i used to always pass this man pushing his daughter in a stroller. every morning for four years, or a little less actually, i’d pass them. and he’d smile and nod, and the little girl would kind of giggle, and we’d go on. she used to be the tiniest thing – and she’s grown so much.

or the two elderly men who i always see in the park when i walk through. the first has frizzled grey hair and cycles – he has thin wee legs that are the colour of those redish/purpley potatoes – and i wish my legs were that colour. although maybe i shouldn’t because there might be a painful history behind that, or they may bring him all sorts of trouble, i don’t know. but i think he’s cool anyway.

the other has white hair and walks on the retaining wall between the dart tracks and the sea, looking out over the bay and towards howth. he strolls down the wall with his hands in his pockets, taking his time, looking like he’s drinking in everything around him. it’s wonderful.
i do not know any of these people, and yet i wish i did, and i feel very attached to them.

the recent controversy over the lisbon treaty has been most interesting, though. there’re posters up everywhere – vote no, vote yes – put up by various parties. the thing is, both sides claim the same thing. the posters from parties against the treaty say:
better for ireland! VOTE NO.
and the posters from parties for the treaty say:
better for ireland! VOTE YES.
ah yes, lads, effective campaigning. well done.
(of course there are a few that are a wee bit over the top, but the majority of them all say the same thing).

a lot of people don’t even know what it’s about – or just have a vague knowledge of what it is and what it does. and i was reading an article in the newspaper the other day which was saying that unless there’s more publicity and education on what the treaty’s about, ireland will probably vote no on the treaty.
all the people who think it’s good will just say, ah sure, it’s grand and most won’t turn up to vote, while the people who are against the treaty will be very passionately against it and definitely turn up to vote. the article said this will probably be brian cowen’s first real test as taoiseach – turning a potential political disaster around in less than a month.
it wasn’t expressing an opinion on the treaty itself – just saying that if a small percentage turn up to vote it’ll be a disaster whether ireland votes for or against it.

what i think is the funniest is that sinn féin is advertising their opinion on the treaty. they really should express the opposite – then most people would say, ah, sinn féin says to vote yes? right so, we’re voting no.
except your hard-core republican nationalists who could almost be fenians. they’ll probably follow sinn féin policy. but anyway – that’s terrible stereotyping. i’ll stop now.

clodagh has also started cycling to training. and subsequently, earl has come up with the theory that we’ve made a ’guild of the cyclists’ – he says florry passed it to mick, mick passed it to me, and now i’m passing it to clodagh. although (according to him at least) clodagh gets the ‘benefit of training’ by being a ‘cycling apprentice.’
‘that sounds so emotional!’ jess said when he was announcing this to us all. ‘i now pass this on to you, the new cyclist, and all of that…’
but it’s all good, because now we get to walk out together, unlock our bikes, slag each other about helmets, and cycle off together.
in a way it does feel like earl’s right, but we don’t have meetings discussing things like where the pot holes are in the road and how to avoid them, like he suggested. ha.

and he’s been coming up with some pretty wild theories lately, like how penguins, dolphins, tuna, and plants are all in a plot together to increase global warming to get rid of humans.
‘a lot of species out there would be pretty thrilled if there were no more humans around, abbygail,’ he told me. ‘they’d be local heroes.’
and i just say, ‘cáca milis, earl, cáca milis.’

a few days ago sarah and i were walking towards the village together; she was telling me her backup plan for if she fails her exams. this plan involves moving to france for a year, where won’t have to work, won’t have to do anything except cook.
of course, as she was telling me this i was thinking, she’s not going to be able to do that, they won’t let her stay unless she’s on a work visa…and then almost instantly i realised that she has a european passport – it doesn’t matter for her.
and then i was infinitely jealous. and a little bitter. but there you have it.

but on a happier note…nine exams down, six to go!

we had our last day of school two weeks ago – well – ‘last day of school’ – a few of us came in for maths and chemistry classes for the two weeks between then and now, and still more of us came in to study – and it was strange, because we all kind of said goodbye to the lcs, and then there we were, wandering in (with non-uniform, too, which made us stand out even more) at odd times…

but it was nice…little groups in corner of the library, in the ib rooms, outside at the picnic tables, walking to the shop, wandering down through the park towards the village. 
after chemistry on saturday five of us walked down, through the park, and into the village and chilled for a few hours, which was lovely. relieving stress with the serenity of the silver greygreen sea nearby.

been trying to organise the great cardiff adventure the past couple of days, which has been preserving my sanity i think. it’s been pretty fun actually, having to organise everything. now it’s just to convince loads of people to go so we can get reduced rates for things. ha. 
some part of me thought we would plan and plan and never go – but it’s starting to come together now! and i’m excited.

and nationals this weekend, which means that we’re tapering and we’re hyper and energetic. the water levels in the pool are higher than normal, the water is just the right temperature, and movement through the water feels graceful and smooth and joyful. sprints of the block and nickels and i start trading stories and singing a confused medley of songs that definitely don’t blend well together.
and after training the two of us burst into the changing rooms singing
my fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation
i know that i should let go but i can’t
and every time we fight i know it’s not right
every time you’re upset and i smile
i know that i should forget but i can’t..
to baffled teammates who after a moment’s pause join in.
although, that song mostly reminds me of the hague; they played it almost every night at cramer’s…
and it is a perfect, welcome break from studying all day. 

yesterday was quiet, and today was quiet, quiet when i woke up, quiet all day, quiet now. and full of sunshine. sunshine that streams in through the window and filters soundlessly through the leaves of peter, curtains, molly, viola, and ezekiel, creating a sort of glowing green light all through the front of the sun room. yesterday the horizon was heavy with a sodden veil. which means it will rain today. but not yet, not for a few hours.

and so i walk down up and over to the sea. and the water is so clear, clear and yet pale aqua-coloured, like in málaga, and i’m not able to help but pull off my converse and socks and roll up my trousers and wade in as far as i am able, splashing around. colours ribbon through the tiny waves – they are tiny because the sea is on its way out – purple and blue and thin green before they meet the clear aqua where the waves swell around my feet. 

i spend the next hour collecting sea glass. when all of my exams are over i will make a sort of mosaic with the sea glass – using all the different coloursshadestextures of the glass to make a mosaic of the sea. when i have a handful of little pieces i wade back into the sea let the little waves wash over my hands and wash the sand off of the glass. and then i spread them over the rocks of the ledge to dry in the sun, some sparkling, some faded.

one part of the sky is blue, flecked with white clouds. the other is obscured, grey and dark grey clouds building up edged in purple and blue. i transfer the sea glass from the rocks to the white shirt i’ve brought, wrap it up, and leave slowly. the sea has changed, it mirrors the sky. one part is still blue and purple and turquoise; the other is now dark – navy and forest green and deep, deep purple – and yet, towards the north, there is a vertical ribbon of a mixture of green and sand colour that stands out – a colour i have never seen before. and it is beautiful. 

i walk up, and am inside just as large drops of rain begin to fall.
bismarck and mao are waiting for me. they are a little impatient.

*foundations//kate nash

in order to make flatman we needed to tape thread to a €2 coin; so sibel and i went to the library, hoping to ask kathryn if she had tape.
she wasn’t there, probably in the staff room or something, but there was a roll of tape on her desk, so we just started attempting to stick the thread to the coin.
after several unsuccessful attempts, she walked in, took a brief note of what we were doing, and sat at her desk. in the middle of checking books for stokes, said, ‘you’ve got too much thread wound around the coin, girls. if you unwind a bit of the thread and add more tape you’ll be grand.’
and of course, it worked.

the thing i loved about it, was that she didn’t even question the reason why we were taping the thread to the coin, she just gave us valuable advice to point us in the right direction.
stokes, of course, thought we were strange.
after filming though, we rushed back to the library to show kathryn why we’d needed the thread/coin/tape; she laughed and said, ‘and yis are in 6th year too! it’s just as well you’re ib students…you have an excuse.’

driving back from limerick was interesting. lashing rain. pitch black. heavy traffic from the red cow to bewley’s. yay.

we talked about universities. we talked about immigration. two of the things that could push me over the edge just a bit.

i remembered hyper-ventillating into a paper bag in the back seat of the car coming home from somewhere i can’t remember.
i remembered sobbing into natalee’s shoulder in the powder room.and yet just then there was an egg in my throat and burning in my eyes.

apparently it’s all down to this fierce loyalty thing that people keep telling me i have, and that i keep seeing pop up everywhere. but then i realised that i’m becoming too self-indulgent with panic and self-pity and worry and over-dramatising things. histrionic. yes. histrionic. that’s the word. such a good word.

and it’s probably just so that i won’t have to focus. so i want no more of it. which is easier to say i suppose but i want no more of it.

instead, i’m a leaf on the wind!!

starting off in one place and ending up in another, flipping and floating between. and that is something to be excited and optimistic about.

and now that i’m getting into dodgy metaphors, i’m going to bed.

*wash from serenity 

tuesday was spontaneous and i was glad for it. surprise relief from the monotony of studying in the form of killiney beach.
and it was so beautiful down there too. the sky was shades and textures and layers of grey, with flecks of pearly purple and white here and there; the sea grey and silver and faded navy blue, rippling with small waves even with the fifteen minutes of misting we got; bray head green and purple and brown – the gorse hasn’t quite burst into flame yet; and then the pebbly sand itself brown, and yet so many different colours at once when you look straight down at it.

and then yesterday the sea was such a pure, bright, shimmering blue that i couldn’t help but grin every time i looked at it, so brilliant that i could hardly keep my eyes on it for more than a few seconds without them burning.

it was so wonderful to sit behind the desk and, when there was too much murmuring amongst the delegates in my committee and again in ga, call,
order on the floor, order on the floor
and hear the low noise immediately subside.
dead quiet. people listening. respect for the speaker.
sometimes i only wish that it didn’t just apply to mun.

and instead at the end of the day, i’m juggling to the french national anthem or scraping the coffee grounds from the french press into the bin. don’t ask me about the whole french thing. i don’t know.

and maybe i’m still a little angry that the delegate representing russia never received justice for what he did. i think i may have been the only one burning, seething with anger that nothing was ever done. oh, plenty of people were angry at what he did. but most just sat back and said, you know, it’s the second to last resolution of the conference. there’s really no time to do anything now…
maybe i’m just dreading that maybe possibly be a time where i lapse into feeling the same thing. when i no longer will care. and maybe i’m just a little disgusted that time is being put over justice.