Category Archives: Daily Update.

Warm in your Dream

“Ok, it’s decided,” I announced to The Bessie, over brioche and cafe au lait at the patisserie down the road from our hotel. I’d been staring at the Arc de Triomphe and suddenly it was all clear to me.
“What?” she asked.
“My life,” I said, sipping my hot coffee. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do: I’m going to move to Paris and become a poor,struggling writer. I will compose a wondrous, but under-appreciated novel, that will become revered after my premature death and will be a beacon for generations to come.”

Wandering around endless Parisian streets, it seemed the only option for me.
Anything rather than go back to my dreary, crumbling life in Dublin.

How could I return to a large, cold, empty house in a country that seems to be constantly damp when I was standing in the most beautiful city in the world?

My imagination was coming alive.
I was coming alive.
So many colours, endless supplies of cafés and pastries, an abundance of picturesque avenues and life-changing events all seemed to be telling me I needed to do this.
I needed to be that crazy writer who ups and leaves her humdrum life to pursue the craziest and most fragile of her dreams.

The only problem was that I wasn’t that adventurous or crazy.
I wasn’t even a writer.

Back in Dublin a few days later, I sat eating fries in the same diner I’d been visiting for years.
My friend’s mother popped in for a second and told me she’d heard ‘what happened’ and that she was sorry.
She then proceeded to tell me that she’d been reading my blog and that  I should “write a book”.
I made my usual array of nervous jokes in the face of compliments I didn’t know how to take, but through it all her earnestness was really touching.
The urge returned and I found myself calculating how long I could survive in Paris with my measly savings, since I wouldn’t be able to get a job without having the language (which I have little chance of learning).

“You know,” I told my friend, “after the break-up, I tried to comfort myself by saying that being single would help make my blog a little more interesting. I thought I could be the next Carrie Bradshaw, writing about the complications of my newly-acquired relationships with strangers. It’s not really working out that way though. I’m not big on the random, drunk scoring of strangers and you can’t write an honest account of relations with a person you know, because they or their friends will end up reading it. It’s just mean.”

And so I’m back at Square One, although it feels like Square One-Minus-Five.
I’m living the uninspired life, because of a need to get by financially.
I’ll continue to drag myself into my dreary job, which isn’t just content with taking the 9-5 working hours, but leaves me too drained to function during the evenings.
Sure I’d love be daring like Hemingway or Fitzgerald (yes, I did go to see Midnight in Paris the other day) and experience Parisian life, while churning out great novels, but unfortunately, I’m a little lacking in their talent and so there are practicalities to consider.
But is that what makes a good writer?
Is that what it takes to write The Great Novel?
An utter belief in yourself and your ability, the daring to go for it, the willingness to live in poverty and the single-mindedness to never give up?

It does seem that way, but admittedly, a huge fortune could also help.
Maybe I’ll start doing the Lotto…

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Musing at the Diner

Sitting in the same area of the same Eddie Rockets that we conducted the first two years of our relationship, I didn’t know what to feel.

“So what happened with you two, or am I allowed to ask?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked and it wasn’t the first time I had to shrug my shoulders and have a quick think about it.
And even with all those opportunities, I was yet to come up with a satisfying answer.

“I dunno,” I told Sinead honestly. “It just wasn’t right anymore.”

We chatted about other long-term couples that had broken up in recent times.
It was the same formula: couple got together during college, stayed together for years, many lived together, everyone thought they’d be together forever and then BAM they were no more.

“I think it’s just the way it is now,” I mused over a chocolate malt. “I mean, years ago people did their Personal Growth thing during the last years of secondary school and in the couple of years afterwards so they had it together by the age of 20. But now, we don’t start until after college and those few years are supposed to be the time you sort yourself out, find out who you are and become comfortable with that. I did my growing as part of a relationship. Most people that do that grow into One Half of a Relationship and not into a person.”

“I know it sounds very American and cringe-worthily clichéd, but I feel like I need to ‘find myself’,” I said. “I’m not sure who I am or what I can handle or even what I want right now. I’m completely different from the Me in my final year in college.”

Sinead nodded her agreement. “You just need to live life a bit and have some fun!”

After a chat about general Life Stuff, I said: “Isn’t it crazy to think back to that summer in the shop five years ago when we had The Plan?”
“Oh God yeah,” said Sinead.
“The guy I liked was away for the summer and you had just met yours and we made a pact to win their hearts. And we did,” I added somewhat triumphantly. “And since then my whole life plan has changed so many times, I’ve had a few other boyfriends and a ridiculously long relationship with a boy I lived with, and now I’ve no idea what I want to do with my life. You also broke up with your guy and you’ve been around the world and you’re moving to Australia next week.”

It was head-spinning to think about all that had changed and how it seemed that all the work I’d put into life over the last few years had been erased and I was starting again.
Out on my own.

“On the plus side,” I said as an after thought, “my conversation topics are far more exciting as a single person than they were as the Long Time Relationship Girl. It’s nice to know there’s a silver lining.”

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A little letter to….The Boy

The 21st of May 2011.

Everyone else spent the day laughing about the apocalypse that never came, but on some level, we were believers.
Our worlds – no, our world – did end.
By midnight, we’d dismantled the life we’d created together and I slept alone in what had been our bed, staring at a blank future.

Subconsciously, I’d tried to warn us a few weeks early.
Without fail, whenever I feel like I’m losing control of things, I cut my hair stupidly short or I stubbornly attempt to pierce the cartilage in my ear yet again.
This time is was the hair.
I was too preoccupied with other things to pick up on it and you just didn’t see anything unusual about it.
Why would you?
I haven’t felt the need to do either of those things in four years.

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Fantabulous Foto Friday

Hello Folks!
Hope you enjoyed the guest posts featured here over the last ten days!
Thanks again to the lovely ladies for helping me out!

My big move (ie: the reason I took the break) hasn’t happened, due to us realising what a HOLE of a place the house really was, so I’ve spent that last couple of weeks house hunting.
I’m feeling quite hopeful right now, because I think myself and The Boy may have struck gold, but I don’t want to jinx it so shhhhhhh.
😀

Anyway, May is going to be ker-ray-zay, between continuing the house hunt, actually moving, potentially welcoming two new kittens (eeeeeeee) and heading to Paris with The Bessie.

I’m going to give myself a break from blogging for the month.
I could keep trying to churn out posts, but they’d be all complete shite and you guys deserve better than that.

So I will see you all again at the start of June, when I will dazzle you with pictures and anecdotes and general hilarity.

Don’t forget me!
Love you all!
Hermia
oxox

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U-turns

So our ‘Moving into our New Home’ plans have been put on hold.
It seems the amazing house wasn’t so amazing after all.
And came fully equipped with interesting features such as a urine-stained bath (with chips in the enamel), a washing machine that smelled of mould and sewage when opened and a leaking oil tank that was turning the soil in the back garden to black mulch.

We weren’t completely clueless about the house. We knew there were a couple of problems, but we were willing to deal with them ourselves and we had high hopes for the place.
And then we realised that these few problems were only the tip of the icebergs.
She managed to keep all these things (and others) hidden from us until we signed the lease.
And handed over the first month’s rent.
And a deposit.

Thankfully The Boy went all French on her ass after she left and we realised just how many things were wrong and he got all our money back.
All Hail The Boy!

So now we’re sitting here waiting for our current landlord to get back to us, because we’re technically homeless as of Sunday.
Eeep!

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Man, all of our sinks are broken

I took my first trip to Ikea at the weekend.
I’d like to think of it as the day my life truly began.

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Fantabulous Foto Friday

April Fools Day.
My least favourite day of the year.
Made even worse by the fact that I work in media monitoring so I’m spending my day questioning whether news and discussions are real or a piss-take.
You’d be surprised at how hard it is to tell the difference…lot of rubbish out there in Radioland.

The main reason I don’t like it is because it’s the day before my birthday.
Which meant I spent my whole life listening to the same jokes on the day.

As a kid it was  “No it’s not your birthday tomorrow….APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!” as family members tried to convince me there was a mistake with my birth certificate.

As I got older it became…
“Oh I forgot it was your birthday tomorrow….APRIL FOOLS!!!!”
or
“Oh I didn’t get you anything…APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!”
or
“But I thought you wanted a pencil/spoon/pea for your birthday……APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You get the idea.

Anyway, it IS my birthday tomorrow, so thoughts of a brilliant weekend will get me though this.
The Boy has promised me a Pancake-Cake for breakfast tomorrow and has also vowed to refer to me as Princess Hermia for the whole weekend…which he probably won’t do, but I can dream!
He’s also told me there’s a mystery trip to look forward to so high-fives all round!

And then on Monday, the madness begins…

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