The Winner takes it all...even the insults!

“The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back. That's real glory. Thats the essence of it.”

― Vince Lombardi

This week, I won. Yeh! I won tickets, through a radio station competition, for a Jack White gig this summer. As I’m a massive fan, clearly, I was lifted. That lift was weighed down somewhat, by the fact the radio producer, mistook me for an apparent ‘stalker’ type lady who has been harassing him for alt tickets. Wrong gig, Ed and wrong girl! Oh, but how we laughed!

So, maybe winning isn’t everything. Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose. It’s not the destination but the journey… blady, blady, blah blah.

So, this week, I am not winning but taking part in two major events, in Kerry. Listowel Writers Week will resume its’ beautiful assault on Listowel town from this Thursday. WW is fantastic. Not only a great socializing event, it houses storytellers, poets, drunks, craic, crafters and a couple of writers. I have been to see many great speakers such as Richard Dawkins, who intelligence far by-passed his audience but still managed to remain intriguing. Alain de Botton was witt, light and sharp as a tack. David Sedaris, won of my favourites was speaking in St John’s theatre sometime before or after the stage play Carnage. As the latest addition to Listowel, the Craftshop na Mear, will also be hosting events throughout the week. I will be there.

Killorglin is home to KFest, Munsters newest cultural fringe festival. This will be taking place over the weekend. As I’m a newbie, I don’t know what to expect. It looks like a whole lot of good so a win win situation.

So a busy week for all involved in these two gems. Long may they continue to transfuse rich culture and a bit of fun into rural Ireland.  

Fear & Trembling

“Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”

― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

What is it? The one thing that makes you quiver, wretch, draws pill sized goosepimples up on your skin, just at a thought or memory? There is the dreadful Spider family, the shimmering Heights at the top of a ladder or the slither of a cold hypodermic Needle into the arm. Ouch! My personal best is Agoraphobia which is defined in medical terms as: “The fear of situations in which escape is difficult.” I prefer this to a fear of going outside as I regulary go outside and find I have no fear at all. In fact, I quite enjoy the experience of engaging in a varying environments. The problem develops when I am unable to leave!

The dentist has particular control on creating this fear. Not only do you know you have to go, but when you get there, you can’t leave. A visit to the dentist is prolonged torture. The build up to what you can expect, the percieved sinister smile when you enter the surgery and their abiltiy to jam as many metal objects into your mouth as possible. While this is happening, they usually start up a lively converstion asking if you feel any pain! Please, take a snapshot....

The Far Side

Sometimes, I feel similar pain while working. The fear of facing my bank balance, the paper work my accountant insisted I should organise, the fear of the unknown each time I lift the needles and begin. What should emerge, what will emerge. A little bit of magic...here’s hoping. Working creatively is liberating, captivating but also incarcerating. You are confined and let loose at the same time. It makes the journey all the sweeter and more enjoyable but like all sweets, that trip to the dentist will ensue!

Thankfully, the apprenhension of fear is all in your head. Stay sane, stay knitting...and stay hungry. Thanks Steve, for that one.

The Art of Travel

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.

Douglas Adams

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Milan. I’m not entirely sure how I ended up there or why, nevertheless, I was jolted awake by the drop of airplane wheels on tarmac and thought “oh s**t. It wasn’t a dream!” It was an impulse decision.

Milan was great. Although, the airport itself seemed to have been designed specifically for a Ryanair flight: as it’s own website states “..the added beauty is that it not only offers accessibility to….Italy but also in several other countries too!” Out of town then. The trip, in fairness, was easy and reasonably priced. Milan itself is a good looking city filled with stunning architecture, mouthwatering shops and people who look like life on the lens is the only way to live. Italians are the best at looking good. They don’t walk, they saunter. They seem to effortlessly exude sex appeal and confidence while not showing the slightest amount of self-consciousness. I love Italy.

So while on my two-day exile, I had time to spend seeking answers. Why am I here? What is my purpose? How much are those shoes?

It all made sense on my journey home. The plane was filled with Italian teenagers, effortlessly wearing pit black sunglasses onboard. The flight was turbulent and messy. There were bad smells, stomach-churning rifts and endless hopeful sales pitches for tea/coffee, perfumes and oversized chocolate bars. The young couple sitting beside me, continuously took photos of the airplane wing, throughout the flight, while I sat at the window seat.

The plane, finally dropped from the sky with a thud. As the door opened, an artic wind blew, rain pelted our faces and I knew... I was home. 

How to save your life...

“Don't run away.

I’m not running away. I’m already gone.”

― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Darkness

While passing some time with a couple of friends, recently, that old chestnut, re the role of men and women in modern society and relationships, popped up. The general consensus was, neither sexes still understand each other and what we want seems all a bit muddled.

I’m a wee bit of a commitment-phobe. Well, I spend far too much time thinking about the possible scenarios that may happen during the initial stages of a relationship. Like all the work that may be involved and thus, missing the point of the true value of  sticking with something/ someone.

While my love stands before me, looking slightly perplexed, I sense a question coming into his head. As I run for the door, believing his best intentions are chasing me down, he calls after, “I was only asking about the soccer scores!”. I’ve made my bed, slept in it, leapt out early morning to escape the possibility of “happy ever after”. It's all pointless. It's like beginning a race and half-way through, running back to the start line.

My perfect mate may well be the archetypal cave man. He has no time to sit around allowing me time to think, “is this right?”. Instead of waiting for me to come back to earth, he gives one sharp tap over the head with his club and proceeds to drag his new love away to his cave. Sometime later, I wake up. My eyes adjust to the semi darkness, shoulders drop, I sigh heavily. I start to think. How the hell I am going to improve this place?

A little something for the procrastinator in you….

How not to run away!

Instant Crush

“She goes very still and I can count on one hand all the times we’ve been here before,standing at the precipice of almost and staring down into the abyss of what-if.”

― Kat Kruger, The Night Has Claws

For those of you who were living under a rock during the year that was 2013, Daft Punk made an impact, musically, digitally and emotionally. They helped wear down the heels of disco shoes and made the uncool feel dreadfully cool while driving in summer heat with the window down. Yes, we had sunny days in Ireland in the year that was 2013. The cosmic love made between Daft Punk and Sunshine, led us to believe we (the Irish) could be sexy and cool, at the same time.

Going back to point, Julian Casablancas paved a pathway to my heart with his vocals on the track, Instant Crush. Casablancas sings in his enchanting, fractured tone, about finding love but not fully realising what else is involved, until it’s too late. There is slight regret but ultimately, the song is a realistic love song.

The Song

Being in love is on a par with being insane. Does that mean that since the age I picked up a pair of knitting needles and fell in love with their long, cool bodies, I was certified, mad? Knitting and I have a tumultous relationship where I feel at certain times its unrequited on the side of the knitting. My knitting is the bastard of all knitting. I constantly remain hopeful things can only get better. I reminisce on the moments of pure perfection when what we can produce together is just short of ingenius! And then my son-of-a-bitch knitting goes awry, gets bored and feels “not in the mood”. My relationship with my knitting & work can be described in the words of Daft Punk, as “a world within me I cannot explain. Many rooms to explore, but they all look the same”. Synthesised poetry in motion.

But what is life without love? Wrapping yourself in cotton wool only makes you prone to vulnerabilty. The cotton wool has you then! Letting go of all the bad in my craft will, I believe, enlighten me to produce real works of art. A real baby I can be proud of.

Sometime later....

 ....Rabbit was born!

This must be the place

“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”

― Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

I have a scar. Well, I have several scars, some psychological and some flesh scars. When I was 2, I managed to pull a kettle of boiling water onto myself leaving a nasty memory of what pain felt like and a permanent scar of what was and what was to come.

Growing up, I hated the scald mark that disfigured me. I felt it was a blotch that would affect my right to happiness, that, god forbid, I would be deemed, imperfect. But that’s when I believed that on your pathway of life, pretty parcels of tried and tested, portions of life, were handed out. While the cleverer people choose those options, my imperfect self, idly choose the pick n’ mix. There is a knack to making sense of this mixed up buffet of choice, however, there are no rules and no guidelines.

Whether its vacuuming your vacuum cleaner, methodically eating a raspberry jam sandwich, every day or always looking under your car before getting in, we all have our tics or oddities that help make us feel complete. Even allowing all those ‘imperfect’ souls into your gleaming existence, can help make you feel more accomplished.

http://www.newscientist.com/special/ten-mysteries-of-you

I allow ‘strange’ into my life, as I believe, you must let the external strange seep in, to allow the internal crazy to come out. Like osmosis, helping create a peaceful equilibrium. I’m not crazy I just understand I have a little bit in me. For all the mistakes made during the tumultuous growing up years, the bad choices taken from that ill-defined pick n’ mix, I can’t begrudge myself the happiness I feel now for understanding myself and liking who I have become. The conventional would never suit, and if that had been chosen, my life would be very different but that story will never be told. 

Just for a reminder on how fantastic The Doors were and a quick nod to the late, Jim Morrison .... People are strange

Much Loved

Progress is man's ability to complicate simplicity.

Thor Heyerdahl

Changes…..in seasons, hair styles, books. January despite being the first month of the new year has been labeled the month of new beginnings. However, September is the month, people are most likely bring about positive change in their lives. September is the month of new beginnings. January seems the obvious choice but then again, by the end of the month, the money is all gone, the weight has stuck with you and your dream of giving up the day job to follow ‘the book within me’ is eye turning upwards, inducing.

There are some positives to January, however. Well, my birthday falls on the 30^th making me one year older. Ugh! Okay, there is plenty of fresh air blowing what with these storms brewing. Oh! The micro economy of the healthy living industry will have a mini boom due to last until, at least, the first week of February. Mmm….So far, not so good.

Wait! Just heard through the grapevine, there is a Teddy Bear Exhibition showing in Dublin. January has its bonuses too…a great month to reminisce and therefore, enable us to look forward positively. The beloved soft toy has been praised and respected for decades but more recently has been allocated the much deserved limelight due to the photography of Mark Nixon. 

Much Loved

Nixon’s book had been well publicized pre-Christmas. Soft toys are for life as illustrated so beautifully in this special book. Teddies and soft toys stay with us. Physically they change over time just as humans do and therefore, the emotional attachment remains strong as they grow old with you. Contributors to the book, admitted openly that they shared their secrets with their beloved toys, brought them on their honeymoon and that they still remained as important in these peoples lives as they did when they were children.  Mechanical and plastic toys will never harbour the same comfort and affection as a soft toy. Something to consider.

You may also be interested in the YouTube video for All the Broken Toys at Christmas by Batteries Not Included, quiet obviously, a parody.