#Kids Learn Through Exploring in Dublin

[laurasimonsdaughter]

The only modern take on Leprechauns that I've seen was Mad Sweeny from American Gods (TV series) and I won't spoil it for you if you haven't seen it, but he has a episode "A prayer for Mad Sweeny" exploring his backstory and he really was portrayed more like a Fae, than what people think of Leprechauns today. What are your thoughts on it?

I haven't seen American Gods, but that use of the word leprechaun without actually including many of the characteristics that folklore attributes to leprechauns is exactly how they showed up in the kids' series "De Greizelklas" that I grew up loving. In that case they specifically let the "leprechaun" in question play a magic flute, live in a mound and accidentally trap people there by offering them snacks (hilarious). So they really made them act more like Aos Sí, and could have called them that instead.

I think this use of the name comes primarily from the fact that "leprechaun" is so well known. (I spent ages in Dublin looking for a shirt that said "the fairies made me do it" but they only ever had ones that said leprechaun.) The image and name are so widespread compared to other types of fae that it's a way to use a "foreign" word and still have people go "hey I know that!" But then the characteristics of the more general, less defined "fair folk" are much better for storytelling, so they end up mixing and matching at will.

That's not something I'm a big fan of. It's a bit of a pet peeve, but if you're going to choose a more specific name from folklore and then ignore the implications of that completely, why bother? (I must admit I'm guitly of it myself though, by calling Eele from the webcoming @thefishermansfavour a "merrow" without following the specific folklore, because "mermaid" was too gendered a term and "merfolk" sounded too modern.)

That being said it's a fine line between "ignoring folklore" and "fleshing out folklore to tell a modern story". Even more so because even in oral tradition details will differ from storyteller to storyteller and some may give explanations on the why and how of certain creatures that do not show up anywhere else. This explanation on leprechauns always being men, for example, I have never seen anywhere but in McAnnaly's Irish Wonders:

The Leprechawn is an old bachelor elf who successfully resists all efforts of scheming fairy mammas to marry him to young and beautiful fairies, persisting in single blessedness even in exile from his kind, being driven off as a punishment for his heterodoxy on matrimonial subjects. This is one explanation of the fact that Leprechawns are always seen alone, though other authorities make the Leprechawn solitary by preference, he having learned the hollowness of fairy friendship and the deceitfulness of fairy femininity, and left the society of his kind in disgust at its lack of sincerity. It must be admitted that the latter explanation seems the more reasonable, since whenever the Leprechawn has been captured and forced to engage in conversation with his captor he displayed conversational powers that showed an ability to please, and as woman kind, even among fairy circles, are, according to an Irish proverb, "aisily caught be an oily tongue," the presumption is against the expulsion of the Leprechawn and in favor of his voluntary retirement.

In the end I think that if you tell a story with love for the folkloric source material, it will always shine through. It's impossible to please everyone, but care an enthusiasm always show <3

[techteam22]

Discover Nursing in Dublin: Your Friendly Guide to the Emerald City

Hey there! 😊 Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live and work in a magical city? Dublin, Ireland’s bustling capital, is not just about its rich history and vibrant culture; it’s also a fantastic place for nurses to build a rewarding career. Let's dive into why Dublin is the perfect spot for nurses like you!

Sure, Dublin is famous for its leprechauns, castles, and lively pubs, but there’s so much more! Imagine a place where you can stroll through beautiful parks, enjoy mouth-watering food, and explore a city buzzing with friendly faces. Dublin has all that and a booming healthcare sector too! 😊

Nursing in Dublin: A World of Opportunities

Diverse Job Market

In Dublin, you’ll find all kinds of nursing jobs. Whether you love working with kids, helping people with mental health issues, or taking care of patients in critical care, there’s a spot for you. Think of it like a huge toy store, but instead of toys, there are endless nursing opportunities! 🎉

Professional Development

Dublin is home to some of Ireland’s best medical schools and research centers. This means you can keep learning new things and growing in your career. Imagine having a superhero training center right in your city! 🦸‍♀️

Quality of Life

Life in Dublin is pretty sweet. The city is full of friendly folks, yummy food, and lots of fun things to do. From cool museums to beautiful beaches, there’s always something to keep you entertained. It’s like living in a big, happy playground! 😊

Competitive Salaries

Nurses in Dublin get paid well. This means you can enjoy all the fun stuff the city offers without worrying too much about money. Plus, some employers even help with moving costs if you’re coming from another country. 💰

Types of Nursing Jobs in Dublin

Registered Nurse (RN)

As an RN, you’ll be a superhero for your patients. You’ll take care of them, give them medicine, and work with other healthcare heroes to make sure they get the best care possible. 🏥

Nurse Practitioner (NP)

NPs in Dublin have a lot of independence. You can specialize in areas like heart health, kids’ health, or mental health. You’ll diagnose conditions, prescribe medicine, and manage patient care. It’s like being a detective, doctor, and nurse all rolled into one! 🕵️‍♀️

Community Nurse

Community nurses are like friendly neighbors who help people stay healthy. You’ll visit patients at home, help with wound care, manage chronic diseases, and teach them how to stay healthy. It’s a job that makes a big difference in people’s lives. 😊

Mental Health Nurse

Mental health is super important, and Dublin needs nurses who specialize in this area. You’ll work in hospitals, psychiatric units, or community settings to support people with mental health conditions. Imagine being a beacon of hope for someone in need. 💡

Pediatric Nurse

If you love kids, this is the job for you! Pediatric nurses take care of babies, children, and teens. You’ll work in children’s hospitals and clinics, focusing on the unique needs of young patients. It’s like being a guardian angel for little ones! 👶

Steps to Secure a Nursing Job in Dublin

Obtain Necessary Qualifications

First things first, you need the right qualifications. In Dublin, that means being registered with the Nursing and Midwifery Board of Ireland (NMBI). It’s like getting a golden ticket to your nursing career! 🎫

Gain Relevant Experience

While there are entry-level positions, having some work experience can give you a boost. Many hospitals and clinics prefer nurses with experience in specific areas. Think of it as leveling up in your favorite game! 🎮

Search for Job Opportunities

Use job search platforms, hospital websites, and recruitment agencies to find nursing jobs in Dublin. Networking with other nurses can also help you discover hidden opportunities. It’s like going on a treasure hunt! 🗺️

Prepare a Strong Application

Your application should include a well-written CV that highlights your skills and experience. Tailor your cover letter to each job, showing why you’re the perfect fit. It’s like writing a love letter to your dream job! 💌

Prepare for Interviews

Be ready to talk about your experience and skills during the interview. Research the healthcare facility and be prepared to answer questions about nursing scenarios. It’s your chance to shine like a star! 🌟

Living and Working in Dublin

Accommodation

Dublin has lots of housing options, from city center apartments to suburban homes. Think about how close you want to be to your workplace and public transport. It’s like finding the perfect spot in a game of hide and seek! 🏠

Social Life

Dublin’s social scene is buzzing with pubs, restaurants, and cultural events. Plus, the city is near beautiful natural attractions, so you can enjoy outdoor adventures on your days off. It’s like having a new adventure every weekend! 🎉

Healthcare System

Dublin’s healthcare system is top-notch. Working here means you’ll be part of a team dedicated to providing great care to patients. It’s like being part of a winning team in your favorite sport! 🏆

Personal Stories: Nurses in Dublin

Many nurses have found happiness and success in Dublin. Like Sarah, who moved from Canada and loves the friendly atmosphere and professional growth opportunities. Or John, who enjoys the vibrant social life and the chance to work in a leading children’s hospital. Their stories show that Dublin is a great place to live and work! 😊

Top Tips for Thriving in Dublin

Get to Know the City: Explore Dublin’s neighborhoods to find your favorite spots.

Make Friends: Join local groups or activities to meet new people.

Stay Curious: Keep learning and growing in your nursing career.

Enjoy the Journey: Make the most of your time in this amazing city!

Summary

Dublin is a fantastic place for nurses, offering a rich blend of professional opportunities and a high quality of life. Whether you’re just starting or looking to advance your career, Dublin has something for you. So why wait? Start your journey today and discover the exciting world of nursing in the Emerald City! 🌟

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

The Strange Saga of Spinosaurus, the Semiaquatic Dinosaurian Superpredator

I’ve been captivated by dinosaurs for as long as I can remember. My parents tell me that I told them that I wanted to be a paleontologist as early as age four. Naturally, then, I had lots and lots of books about dinosaurs when I was a boy growing up during the 1980s. One of the dinosaurs that always fascinated me the most was Spinosaurus aegyptiacus. Found in 1912 in the Bahariya Oasis of the Western Desert of Egypt (could anyplace sound more exotic to a small-town kid from upstate New York?!), Spinosaurus was originally known from a highly incomplete but also very large and extremely distinctive partial skeleton found in a middle Cretaceous-aged (roughly 95-million-year-old) rock layer in the oasis. Among the few skeletal elements known were part of a strangely shaped (for a dinosaur) lower jaw, some crocodile-like teeth, and most strikingly, several back vertebrae that each sported tall spines, some of them measuring nearly six feet. These spines clearly impressed Ernst Stromer von Reichenbach, the German paleontologist who studied the skeleton and gave the animal its name in a 1915 publication. Tragically, however, that original Spinosaurus skeleton—and all of Stromer’s other dinosaur fossils from Egypt—were destroyed during the Second World War, more specifically in a British Royal Air Force bombing of Munich on April 24, 1944. The story of Stromer’s lost dinosaurs found its way into many a children’s book, including several that I read cover-to-cover. As such, the tale took on near-legendary status for me, and, I’m sure, many other young dinosaur enthusiasts around the world. Here was an absolutely extraordinary dinosaur from a faraway land, similar in size to the gargantuan Tyrannosaurus rex, but clearly very different from all other predatory dinosaurs known at the time – and it was represented only by a few teeth and bones that had been blasted into oblivion decades ago and so now existed only as pictures in books.

A scan of my photocopy of plate I of Ernst Stromer’s original 1915 publication on Spinosaurus aegyptiacus, showing some of the teeth and bones preserved in the holotype (= name-bearing) partial skeleton, discovered in 1912 in Egypt’s Bahariya Oasis. Check out the long spines on the back vertebrae at lower left!

Stromer’s conception of Spinosaurus, as depicted in a 1936 publication and on a glass slide of his that colleagues of mine scanned during our visit to the Paläontologisches Museum München in Munich, Germany in 2001. Stromer knew this animal was big, as evidenced by the human skeleton he included for scale. Interestingly, too, he reconstructed Spinosaurus with unusual proportions for a carnivorous dinosaur, such as an abnormally elongate torso and short hind limbs. We’ll come back to those odd proportions a little later…

When I arrived in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania in 1997, one of the first things I did was make a lengthy list of all the paleontological sites I was interested in exploring, ranked by their potential (in my mind, at least) to produce scientifically significant finds. The Bahariya Oasis and the search for a ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ quickly rose to the top of the list. Amazingly, no one had ever found—or at least officially reported—new dinosaur fossils in the oasis in the more than half-century since Stromer’s beasts were obliterated during that fateful airstrike. A need to keep this post to a reasonable length prevents me from describing the stars that had to align to make this happen, but in January 2000 I found myself in the Bahariya Oasis—one of the places I’d dreamed about going since I was a small child—as part of the first significant ‘dinosaur hunt’ to take place at the site since the early 20th century. It was bittersweet, though, in the sense that we never really found that ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ I’d fantasized about – all we ever discovered of that creature were a few isolated, fragmentary teeth and bones (and, in a very different location, a couple previously unpublished photos of the original skeleton in a Munich archive). We did find and dig up a gigantic new species of long-necked, plant-eating sauropod dinosaur, Paralititan stromeri, a creature that to this day is one of the largest land animals of any kind that’s ever been found, anywhere – but that’s another story for another time.

One of the rare contributions that I personally have made to scientific knowledge of Spinosaurus: a glass slide showing the only known photo of the right dentary (tooth-bearing lower jaw bone) of the original, name-bearing partial skeleton from Egypt. Like all of Stromer’s Egyptian dinosaur material, this specimen (including this bone) was destroyed in a British air raid on Munich during World War II. Several colleagues and I ‘rediscovered’ this photo—which nobody apparently knew existed—in an archive at the Paläontologisches Museum München in 2001. We published it and one other previously unknown photo of the Spinosaurus type specimen in a 2006 paper in the Journal of Paleontology.

A much younger yours truly digging up the incomplete left humerus (upper arm bone) of the gigantic sauropod (long-necked herbivorous dinosaur) Paralititan stromeri in the Bahariya Oasis of Egypt, February 2000. Paralititan is one of the largest dinosaurs ever discovered – a nice ‘consolation prize’ given that we didn’t find much of Spinosaurus during our expeditions to Bahariya. (A cast replica of the complete right humerus of Paralititan is on display in PaleoLab at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.) Credit: Josh Smith.

Back to the matter at hand, meaning Spinosaurus. Fast-forward to 2011. I had the honor of serving as the external thesis examiner for Nizar Ibrahim, a promising doctoral student at University College Dublin in Ireland. I’d known Nizar for years, ever since he reached out to me by email while an undergraduate at the University of Bristol, England, to discuss our mutual interests in African Cretaceous dinosaurs. Nizar’s Ph.D. thesis was on dinosaurs and other middle Cretaceous-aged vertebrates from the celebrated Kem Kem beds of southeastern Morocco, a set of rocks that had yielded a fossil fauna very similar to, though seemingly more diverse than, that of the Bahariya Oasis. Among the many finds that Nizar documented in his colossal thesis were intriguing new remains of Spinosaurus. I went to Dublin to participate in his successful thesis defense, and afterward, he and I hit up some of the city’s finest public houses to celebrate (no surprise for those who know me). Over a pitcher of yummy Irish stout, he told me an exciting story – he and his team had lately discovered not just isolated bones of Spinosaurus in Morocco, but parts of a probable new skeleton. If so, this find would be the first skeleton since Stromer, and moreover would be exceedingly important given how little was known about Spinosaurus, even as recently as the early 2010s. The more parts we paleontologists have of a given fossil animal, the more we can generally learn about it, so the prospect of a new and relatively complete Spinosaurus skeleton—in other words, many bones belonging to a single individual dinosaur—was thrilling to say the least.

Again I’ll skip details for brevity’s sake, but fast-forward once again, to 2014. I was contacted by an editor of Science—one of the foremost scientific journals in the world—to peer-review a paper that had been submitted by (you guessed it!) Nizar and a long list of collaborators describing that new skeleton of Spinosaurus that he’d told me about over beers in Ireland three years before. Nizar and team had revisited the quarry and it had panned out in a big way. From this one, single individual Spinosaurus—again, the first associated skeleton of this dinosaur to have been found in roughly a century—they had bones from the skull, backbone (including a few of those famously long-spined vertebrae!), forelimb, pelvis, and hind limb. More importantly, these ‘new’ bones revealed that Spinosaurus was even more bizarre than anyone imagined! We already knew, from Stromer’s specimen and other, isolated finds made through the years, that the shapes of the skull and back were really weird for a predatory dinosaur. Now, the new skeleton showed that the bones were remarkably dense, the hind legs were oddly short, and the hind feet may have been webbed! All of this led Nizar and colleagues to propose that Spinosaurus may have been semiaquatic; in other words, that its lifestyle was much more comparable to that of a modern-day alligator or crocodile than it was to a more ‘typical’ land-living predatory dinosaur such as T. rex. Other evidence for an affinity to watery habitats had been found in Spinosaurus and closely related dinosaurs (known, perhaps unsurprisingly, as spinosaurids) before, but this was, in my mind, the most convincing case yet made that these animals spent significant amounts of their time at least partly submerged in lakes and rivers. The paper was published in Science a few months later, accompanied by a cover story in National Geographic magazine and a special on the venerable PBS TV series NOVA. Almost exactly one hundred years after it had been named, Spinosaurus had become a celebrity.

Nizar Ibrahim and colleagues’ initial conception of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus in the flesh, released to coincide with the publication of their Science paper in 2014. Two aspects stand out: as Stromer already knew (see his skeletal reconstruction above), the animal is enormous, but it was more oddly proportioned than even he had imagined. Note also the ‘regular-looking’ (for a dinosaur) tail, and read on. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Semiaquatic Spinosaurus chowing down on a tasty lungfish in what is now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Italian paleoartist Davide Bonadonna has produced some of the most beautiful and accurate modern depictions of this extraordinary dinosaur, and I’m grateful to him for letting me reproduce his art here.

But the story didn’t end there. Some prominent paleontologists criticized Nizar and colleagues’ semiaquatic interpretation of Spinosaurus. These opinions weren’t a final judgment. Instead, this is just how science works: we scientists propose ideas, or hypotheses—in this case, that Spinosaurus lived and behaved more like a crocodile than your garden-variety carnivorous dinosaur—and then test these hypotheses by reevaluating the existing evidence and/or bringing new information to light. If a hypothesis repeatedly stands up to testing, then it gradually gets incorporated into the body of knowledge. Other paleontologists presented evidence that they claimed refuted the semiaquatic hypothesis, but Nizar and team eventually countered with new data of their own. In late 2019, another prominent scientific journal—this time it was Nature—came calling, asking me to review a second paper by Nizar et al. on Spinosaurus. What, I thought, could these researchers have to say about this dinosaur that they hadn’t already said before? Well, as it turns out, Nizar and colleagues had kept digging at their Spinosaurus skeleton site, and incredibly, they’d continued to find important new bones belonging to the same specimen. Among these post-2014 finds was the almost complete tail. When I saw what it looked like (via an illustration in their paper), I literally laughed out loud with surprise and delight. Somehow, the shape of the Spinosaurus tail Nizar’s team had discovered—the first even reasonably complete tail of this dinosaur to have ever been unearthed—was simultaneously both unexpected and predictable. It looked really dissimilar from the tails of other predatory dinosaurs, but it was nearly exactly like what one might expect for a dinosaur that used its tail to propel itself through water. In other words, the tall, fin-like tail of Spinosaurus looked more like that of a supersized alligator or newt than that of T. rex.

Nizar and team’s Nature paper on their Spinosaurus tail was published this past April 29. Is it the last word on this dinosaur and its mode of life? Most certainly not, but the evidence is now stronger than ever—in my opinion, very strong—that Spinosaurus spent more time in the water than any other non-avian (= non-bird) dinosaur that we currently know about.

The modern view of Spinosaurus, not as a ‘regular’ predatory dinosaur, but rather as a specialized semiaquatic hunter that spent much of its life in the water. Self-serving side note: the three smaller, spiky-looking fish are Bawitius bartheli, a polypterid (an archaic, still-extant group of thick-scaled ray-finned fishes) that several colleagues and I named in 2012 from fossils found in the Bahariya Oasis. The larger fish at lower left is the giant coelacanth Axelrodichthys (sometimes called Mawsonia) libyca. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Two Spinosaurus invite the sawfish Onchopristis numidus to lunch in what’s now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Look at those fin-like Spinosaurus tails! Credit: Davide Bonadonna/National Geographic.

Nizar (who’s a Research Associate here at Carnegie Museum of Natural History), myself, and our many colleagues and collaborators are continuing to study the mysterious dinosaurs and other fossil vertebrates from the middle and Late Cretaceous of northern Africa. Indeed, Nizar and I have several collaborative papers in the works right now, and I’m also working with an amazing team of paleontologists at Mansoura University on multiple new Egyptian fossil finds. It’s a good bet that African Cretaceous dinosaurs even stranger than Spinosaurus are still out there, waiting to be discovered!

Further reading/watching:

Nothdurft, W. E., with J. B. Smith, M. C. Lamanna, K. J. Lacovara, J. C. Poole, and J. R. Smith. 2002. The Lost Dinosaurs of Egypt. Random House, New York, 256 pp.

Smith, J. B., M. C. Lamanna, H. Mayr, and K. J. Lacovara. 2006. New information regarding the holotype of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus Stromer, 1915. Journal of Paleontology 80:400–406.

Ibrahim, N., P. C. Sereno, C. Dal Sasso, S. Maganuco, M. Fabbri, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, N. Myhrvold, and D. A. Iurino. 2014. Semiaquatic adaptations in a giant predatory dinosaur. Science 345:1613–1616.

Bigger Than T. rex (NOVA documentary): https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/video/bigger-than-t-rex/

Henderson, D. M. 2018. A buoyancy, balance and stability challenge to the hypothesis of a semi-aquatic Spinosaurus Stromer, 1915 (Dinosauria: Theropoda). PeerJ 6:e5409.

Ibrahim, N., S. Maganuco, C. Dal Sasso, M. Fabbri, M. Auditore, G. Bindellini, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, D. A. Mattarelli, D. M. Unwin, J. Wiemann, D. Bonadonna, A. Amane, J. Jakubczak, U. Joger, G. V. Lauder, and S.E. Pierce. 2020. Tail-propelled aquatic locomotion in a theropod dinosaur. Nature 581:67–70.

Matt Lamanna is Mary R. Dawson Associate Curator and Head of the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[aislingeu]

hello!! i’m kq ( aka kelsey quinn! ) i’m twenty five, livin in the est, usin she / her pronouns!! much like the good buddy who turned me on to this rp, i don’t know a ton about percy jackson!! but mythology was one of the few subjects that held my attention in school, so i hoe i have a good handle on it! :D for now, i manage a comic book store from thursdays - sundays, so i’m scarce those times but i’m usually on discord!!

⟨ ABIGAIL COWEN. CIS FEMALE. SHE / HER ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AISLING DUNN is actually a descendant of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old PAINTING MAJOR from DUBLIN, IRELAND has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CLEVER & COARSE.

this got way longer than i intended im so sorry... 

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

she was born on march 12th, 1997 to a pair of irish musicians ( conor and dierdre dunn ) and, unwittingly, one greek god ( hypnos ) in dublin, ireland. her parents met and married shortly after her conception and neither of them suspected that conor wasn’t aisling’s father, until she was claimed.

as an only child, her parents didn’t have much to compare her too in terms of overall strangeness. for years, they wrote off her abilities as kids just sayin’ the darndest things. they remained blissfully unaware of the impact of their daughter’s words, rolling their eyes fondly, when she told them about the man in the cave, who came to her in dreams. they smiled and laughed, when she strangers at the supermarket that she thought erwin was a fine name to give a teddy bear, no matter what anyone else said. how were they to know that she was unearthing the fond childhood memories that passersby had almost forgotten? 

when she enrolled in primary school, they realized that she was... strange, if not special. she was recognized as a bit of a space case, often staring at nothing in particular, while her teacher droned on. her worksheets were seldom turned in complete. instead, aisling began gifting poorly drawn family portraits on the blank sides of her papers, likenesses plucked from the memories she explored when her mind wandered, in class.

eventually, after her skill had developed and people stopped writing off the stick figures as ‘coincidentally accurate’, people began to truly take notice. they speculated that she was a medium, silently communing with the dead and painting their pictures as she did. how else could she know what her art teacher’s late father looked like? and what color tie he always liked to wear? she had to be a psychic. recipients of her art were always so focused on their perception of the little girl with the gift of sight that they hardly even realized what she had tweaked, brightening up their darkest memories, just so they wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. she hardly even realized, herself.

without a reason to believe otherwise, she told the man in her dreams that she was a psychic, but he knew differently. he told her that that wasn’t so. she was special, yes, but not in the ways that the world thought her to be. hypnos let her in on the secret he’d been keeping for the past twelve years and, just like that, aisling could make sense of herself. once she knew the truth, she chased sleep. she spent as much time as she could, communicating with the one person who understood who she was. he saw her hunger for belonging and pointed her in the direction of the camp nearest to her hometown.

after a summer away, she came home faced with a challenge in morality that she’d never considered, as a child. she came home to a world where she could no longer fit. her party tricks had lost their luster the moment she realized that true value of a memory, however sad, was worth far more than the cheap smiles that her alterations had afforded. with that realization, her art took a darker turn. unable to shift the memories she saw into the light, they haunted her. she now saw their fears and heartbreaks for what they were: unchangeable. and, now, they lived within her, too. putting them to paper was the only way to get them out. but, pieces like those weren’t the kind that could be sent home to mom and dad. pieces like those were the kind that got her meetings with guidance counselors and haunted, fleeting looks from those whose memories she’d never meant to disturb. after a year of that, aisling went back to camp, full time.

once she was a year round resident of the camp, she found herself more comfortable around people who understood; there was nothing she had to hide, among those who were like her. each one of them was fighting an uphill battle of their own. they didn’t have to hide it. even if she never allowed herself to get too close, aisling never felt all that far away, at camp.

at eonia, aisling spends most of her days painting, sleeping, or working. raised by a pair of mortal musicians, finding a job at fireside records felt like a natural progression. where her godly parent thrives in silence, she finds her comfort in noise. it’s easier to block out the things she doesn’t need to see when there’s something immediate for her to focus on. at the other end of that spectrum, aisling finds her mind most open in visual arts club, trying to keep her other creative skills sharp, while she keeps her primary focus on painting. in search of inspiration, her mind reaches out in tendrils, dipping into another’s until she finds something she can work with. she only needs to leave the room before they’ve realized what she’s borrowed. 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

aisling is a naturally empathetic person, always wishing she could do more to help those around her. unfortunately, she knows that she can’t always honor that instinct. her abilities and self-imposed limitations have left her with a hardened exterior that isn’t easy to break through. those who pass through her walls see a softer side: a steadfast friend, always there to put a peaceful end to their sleepless nights or calm their worst nightmares, with a gentle run of her fingers through their hair. but sometimes, she’ll wall herself away from even those she’s closest to after she finds herself in the middle of a particularly harrowing memory. because of this, maintaining close bonds for long is a difficult thing. given her propensity for accidentally rifling through the fondest and most fearsome parts of peoples’ pasts, she’s been known cut them out of her life when she sees something that she has the urge to alter.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

MEMORY RETRIEVAL — for as long as she could remember, aisling knew things that she shouldn’t. at first, her parents just dismissed her gift as imagination and observation combining in a perfect, creepy storm. it wasn’t until she started attending school, picked up her finger paints, and started to draw out moments from the pasts of strangers that people started to truly take notice. sloppy scenes from the librarian’s wedding day graduated into well sketched portraits of her bus driver’s dalmatians. she liked to take those happy moments, immortalize them in art, and hand them off to the owners of the memories. she liked to make people smile. sometimes, she took that a step further. too young to see the value in sadness, aisling would tweak the memories that were harder to bear; even if she couldn’t bring someone happiness in the present, she hoped she could bring them comfort in the future. it wasn’t until she was claimed that aisling saw the flaws in her intervention. it wasn’t until she was taught the consequences that she knew she had to stop. although the memories came to her unbidden, they didn’t belong to her and she had no right to change them. instead of focusing on the alteration of memories, aisling opted to try to learn how to shut them out. like her other powers, though, there’s a direct correlation between her emotional state and her ability to keep a wall up. when she’s feeling something strongly or hasn’t gotten enough sleep, she sees things that she doesn’t mean to.

HYPNOKINESIS — you are getting very sleepy… what proved to be a fun tool at sleepovers had more practical applications than aisling knew possible. the skill of inducing sleep was easy enough to come by and influencing dreams was as simple as altering memories. and while ( without intending to ) she’d been known to cause visions when tensions ran high, refining those visions into ones that took the shapes she wanted them to took practice. even more difficult than that was learning to astral project, but that became a necessity, coming hand-in-hand with building her mental walls. when the uninvited memories start to weigh on her, she’s learned that it’s best to remove herself from the immediate vicinity. even if she’s only technically leaving in her head. 

OTHER ABILITIES — ( levitation ) a skill she only possesses in sleep, predominantly when her dreams are eliciting strong emotions. ( seeing the gods in dreams ) this is how she formed and maintained a relationship with her father, despite her parents being unaware of their daughter’s godly lineage. on occasion, she’ll encounter gods that she’s less familiar with and, in most of those cases, she’s been known to force herself awake.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

there are so many cool, fun things runnin through my brain right now!! i think it would be lovely for her to have forged a friendship with an insomniac or maybe someone prone to nightmares that she could help! and those fun customer service relationships with record store regulars!! or maybe a former friend or significant other, who aisling left behind? maybe even altering their memory slightly, if the parting of ways was ugly! who knows! the possibilities are endless!! and i’m always up to hearing other peoples’ ideas because the Sweet Lord knows i am not the most imaginative person in any given room!!!

thank u for reading ilu!!! 

[rueoconghaile]

( HOZIER, 30, CISMALE ) I just bumped into [ RUADHÁN “RUE” O’CONGHAILE ] the other day while walking down [ SOUTH ] Kingsboro, where [ HE/HIM ] live. I hear they can be [ GOOD-NATURED ] and [ CLUMSY ], but when I think of them I immediately think about [ THE SUN SHINING THROUGH STAINED GLASS, THE SMELL OF IRISH WILDFLOWERS AFTER THE RAIN, ACCIDENTALLY WATCHING THE SUN COME UP BECAUSE YOU STILL HAVEN’T SLEPT  ] ( ella again xx )

hi hello i’m sorry i haven’t shut up about this character in like two weeks but he’s so worth the wait i promise. however, that being said, please proceed with caution. i’ll list all of the trigger warnings as they come up but there’s a lot of heavy stuff in here so just be safe ily okay here we go. ps im sorry this got so long

born in middle-of-nowhere, ireland, rue didn’t have the best childhood. his mother, apparently a wealthy socialite from england, had no interest in being a mother. his father, her husband at the time, begged her to let him keep the baby, and they’d get a divorce so she’d never have to see either of them again. she agreed, and took off, leaving rue to be raised by his dad. his mother was more than generous in the divorce settlement, making sure his father had more than enough to care for the child and live a luxurious life. while he wishes he could have met her, rue has no hard feelings towards his mother. 

{ tw: abuse } rue’s father was his best friend. they did everything together, and as a kid, that’s all he could have asked for. sure, it wasn’t perfect, but no dads are perfect, right? in truth, it was far from perfect. for most of his life, rue was in denial about the underlying emotional and mental abuse he suffered at the hands of his father. his father used him, manipulating him and crushing him until he fit this perfect little role his father had designed for him. it was rarely physical, and when it was, it was rue’s fault. he was clumsy and loud, always making noise or breaking things. in fact, most of it was rue’s fault, in his mind. his father’s mood swings, the borderline-obsessive controlling behaviour, the constant belittling comments, only to be outshone by the rare positive one. of course, none of this was actually his fault, but he was just a kid. he assumed that if his father didn’t love him, he had to be better. 

{ tw: homophobia } and then rue was fifteen, falling in love with the world. he quickly learned that if he played his music well, people would be nice to him, and like him. and in one particular case, like like him. he sat next to rue in his english class and had the nicest smile. he was in love, or at least, as in love as he could be at fifteen. and it seemed, for a moment, that he wasn’t the only one. they kept their relationship a secret, their extremely religious town not known for being accepting. they talked about running away together one day, starting over in the big city. and one day came, when the local priest caught them kissing behind the library after mass one sunday. he, of course, went straight to rue’s father.

{ tw: abuse } despite their rocky relationship, not even rue could have predicted his father’s response. upon hearing the now-public news that his teenage son had been caught kissing another boy, his father drank. and drank. waiting for rue to come home, waiting to confront him. even though rue had begun to grow into his height, he had always been a lanky kid who avoided confrontation at all costs. meaning when his father took the first swing, he couldn’t fight back. looking back, he didn’t even know if he would have, had he the chance. 

bruised and bloodied, rue packed a bag and grabbed his guitar, ready to take his love on the road. they’d always talked about running away, why not now? having nothing and being in love was better than staying here in his comfortable life, and he really didn’t want to go back in the closet. his love didn’t feel the same though, publicly denying they were anything beyond classmates. heartbroken, rue left without him, moving to dublin with only what he could carry. 

dublin was good to him, though. he got a job in the kitchen of a dive bar who didn’t ask questions and sometimes let him play on stage if things were quiet. they had an unspoken agreement, they’d look the other way on his age if he showed up and kept his head down and didn’t cause any problems. he lived on the streets for a few years, a wild change from his comfortable upbringing. at first it was just for the money, he couldn’t afford a flat on his own and didn’t know anyone he could live with, but then he actually came to enjoy it. yeah, it was hard, especially in the winters, but the other kids his age on the street were good kids, if troublesome. they all took care of each other, a new family when their own had cast them out. 

that’s where he met her. elizabeth. he was nineteen and had just been promoted to line cook at the bar, she was eighteen and her family had just moved to dublin from denmark. despite the fact that she liked to run on the wild side and hang out on the streets, her family was incredible. they took him right into their home, giving him a place to live, as long as he agreed to go back to school. they even got him a tutor to help with his learning disabilities. as he and their daughter fell more and more in love, they adopted him wholeheartedly into their family, and eventually, rue actually enrolled in college. 

{ tw: abuse } they stayed in dublin for school but moved out of her parent’s house and into their own flat. that’s when things started to spiral in their relationship. elizabeth became overly jealous and controlling, checking his phone multiple times a day, insisting on walking him to and from classes and work. she never had any reason to worry, he was so in love with her it was if no one else in the world existed. to rue, who had been raised so deeply in emotional and mental abuse, this was normal. this was how people showed their love. he didn’t know any better. it was broken and fucked up and extremely toxic, but it was theirs, and he loved her.

{ tw: terminal illness } rue did whatever he could to excuse her behaviour, letting her cut him off from everyone in her life, including her own parents. he even turned a blind eye to the way she checked his phone constantly but always hid hers. that was, until his father got sick. he had been away from home for about five years at that point, and it wasn’t until his father reached out that he even knew he was sick. rue had found himself a comfortable little job caring for animals at a wildlife rehabilitation facility on the outskirts of the city, and while it didn’t pay much, it payed enough to move his father in with them. however, the man that came was not the same man who had raised him. he was a shell of a man, sickness eating away at him until he could barely move. his father had huntington’s, a rare degenerative brain disease that would essentially turn his father into a vegetable until he died an early death. they didn’t know how much longer he had, but it was likely only a few years. 

{ tw: death } to cope with his toxic relationship and the ever declining state of his father’s health, rue threw himself into his music. it was the release he needed, the only thing keeping him going. and it was working. for four years he managed to juggle work, his father’s care, and his music, and it was all about to pay off. he got a record deal at a pretty decent label based out of london. he’d only have to go for a few months, but that meant leaving his father in the care of his girlfriend. so, at the expense of the only dream he’s had, he turned it down. he told himself his life was better here, even going so far as to propose to his girlfriend. his father held on for two more years before he died due to complications of his illness. 

{ tw: terminal illness } even from beyond the grave, rue’s father found ways to ruin every part of him that tried to be happy. during a harmless, unrelated appointment with his doctor, he mentioned in conversation that his father had recently died due to complications from huntington’s. looking back, he is grateful that he did, as he learned that huntington’s is passed genetically. they started testing right away, but the results were not what they had hoped. while he currently showed no noticeable symptoms, rue was all but guaranteed to suffer the same fate. six months later, the tremors started.

{ tw: depression, abuse, cheating } suddenly faced with the idea of his own mortality, rue began to spiral into a deep depression, spending almost all of his time with the animals at work. they were the only things that kept him going, and his fiancée really didn’t like that. when her controlling, manipulative ways failed to force his attention back onto her, she began to seek it elsewhere, armed with his inheritance. his father had been smart with the large some of money he got in the divorce, and had tripled the amount by the time he died. she spent it partying, sleeping around, and spoiling her lovers. rue didn’t care, nothing mattered to him anymore. a year and a half after he got the news, she moved out of their apartment while he was at work. it took him three days to notice her gone. 

losing his fiancée was the best thing to happen to him, and he was suddenly free. nobody tried to control him, nobody cared where he was or who he was with. he began to slowly come out of his shell, enjoying what it was like to be twenty-seven and single for the first time in 8 years. finally able to explore his sexuality safely, rue really came into his own. of course, it wasn’t perfect. he ended up in his ex’s bed a few too many times for his own comfort, but he just couldn’t help himself. she always knew exactly how to push his buttons until he was putty in her hands.

{ tw: abandonment of a child } he thought it was just innocent fun, what exes do. then one evening he came home to a car seat on his doorstep. inside was a baby girl, only a few weeks old, and a note with his name on it. he recognized the handwriting before he even opened it, mentally counting the months since he’d last seen her and not liking the answer. it was definitely possible. even still, he took the baby to the hospital. after many unsuccessful attempts to contact his ex, both by himself, the hospital, and even her own family, rue now had a baby. he had never even wanted kids. 

even still, he loved her. more than he had ever loved anything. his ex had named the baby after herself, but he couldn’t bear to call her that. so, he adopted the nickname lizard, and it stuck. he wanted to give her a better life than he had, but in order to do that, he needed to start taking his health seriously. so, he packed everything up, and moved to new york city. he didn’t care much for the big city and wasn’t a fan of raising lizard without a backyard, but they had the best doctors to treat his disease and he had to try. 

he’s been in kingsboro for about two-ish years now, and has been raising lizard on his own. he works two jobs to support her, days at a wildlife clinic and nights as a bartender, and even then still tries to find time to perform his music as much as he can at bars and clubs around town. he’s multi-talented, skilled in a number of instruments allowing him to easily slot into any empty role. he hasn’t slept since lizard came around and his love like is disappointing, but he is a really good father, and would give his life for his daughter. and, even if it’s three bites and a kiss goodnight, he is home for dinner every single night, without fail. 

[aegisdaycare-blog]

Kids Learn Through Exploring and Environment

Schools and preschools offer a really good environment for your children these days however it is important to build one at home as well. This article will help you know how to build a positive child learning environment at home.

[carmenlire]

Underwater Again

read on ao3

He has to be the best.

He is the best.

He’s a Shadowhunter first, Lightwood second, parabatai third. He stretches himself so thin that sometimes he swears there are holes in him. Breaking points that show in the way smiles feel fake and laughter’s always just out of reach.

He doesn't know who Alec is. He know who he wants to be-- who he could be-- but it’s hypothetical.

He should probably care more than he does. He should care that if you stripped those roles from him, he isn’t sure what would be left. He should care that every day that goes by suffocates him a little more.

The noose tightens over his neck every time he laughs along at another boy’s casually homophobic remarks, every time shame burns bitter and deep when he catches himself staring at a boy, every time he looks around the Institute, around New York, and sees a wasteland.

Fuck knows that it’s enough effort to get out of bed, though, without adding more to his slate.

He can’t think sometimes. For as long as he can remember, he’s had lessons on how to be a leader, how to be a soldier. He knows how to be a big brother and a parabatai.

He doesn’t know what it is to feel human, though. He doesn’t know if he’s lost, a dumbass sheep throwing away day after day for a cause he isn’t sure he believes in for a society that would cast him out if they knew the truth.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s going insane, if he isn’t already there and it’s as desolate as it is chilling-- though all of it is covered with an apathetic veneer that makes Alec wish terribly for something to warm his bones.

He is so, terribly, cold.

He goes for walks sometimes. In between training sessions and lessons in Maryse’s office that are as much cutting criticism as advice, he gets away. Sometimes after a patrol finishes in the early morning, he’ll stay away for just a little bit longer. When he's at the academy in Idris he ambles around the grounds, a silent shadow.

Sometimes he goes for aimless walks on deserted streets. With his glamour rune activated, he’s just another ghost in a city of millions. In the quiet, in the darkness, sometimes he almost thinks he finds a sort of peace.

It’s short lived and easily crumbled, but it’s his and he holds on to it with everything he has.

Sometimes it’s the middle of the day and he takes a morning, an hour in the afternoon, to go to this coffee shop around the block. Or he goes to a florist in Brooklyn that always has a story to tell and never expects Alec to reciprocate.

He goes to museums by himself, the movies. Once a week he manages to leave the Institute for a little while and he explores the city. It makes him feel whole. It makes him feel less alone. Upon retrospect, maybe he takes himself on dates.

That feeling is cut with the caveat that it’s double-edged. He explores and he lives and he yearns. Sometimes he’s the loneliest when he’s amongst everyone else but he takes the feeling and shoves in deep in his chest.

He tells himself when the longing gets particularly savage that at least that means he’s alive. He can feel something after all.

The dates keep him sane through the tumult of being the eldest son. Izzy, who’s just as precocious a teenager as she was a child, loves to tease him. Heavy is the head.

Sometimes Alec wishes he could take the supposed crown he wears, thorny and brittle and more burden than blessing, and burn it to ashes.

It tastes like a death sentence. It leaves an acrid feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about his life stretching before him.

It’s another shameful secret on top of a dozen, but sometimes he hopes that he’s given a soldier’s death. With honor, in battle, at a tragically young age that shadowhunters accept before they get their first runes.

The truth is that he’d dying anyway. He kills himself in little ways, in metaphorical bullshit ways that are as pretentious as they are true.

He works his ass of to be the top of his class. He gets the best marks in every subject. He’s killed scores of demons and he’s not even out of the academy yet. He’s the best warrior of his generation-- any opponent, any weapon. Jace is the only one who can best him and it’s only occasionally.

After his homework is done and training is over, he spends evenings learning about how to run an Institute from his parents. They’re harsh taskmasters that demand perfection and Alec’s goddamned if he doesn’t deliver, even if it’s never acknowledged.

He spends summers touring Institutes all over the world, networking for the future, learning how other areas work. All of the old families send their progeny out. It’s just how things are done.

Alec loves it. He loves the summers where he’s away from everything that reminds him of home-- whatever that means-- and his future. He makes friends, sometimes for a few months and some he’s kept in touch with, and he travels and he learns. He learns what he needs to but he also learns about the world.

He picks up half a dozen languages, perfects the ones he already knew. He tries new food and explores different museums and historical sites, and every summer he thinks that he just might reclaim a sliver of his soul.

That quickly disappears when he returns to New York, when he goes back to the strained monotony the Academy is. He collapses in on himself, loathe to draw attention. When the school term starts, he’s the perfect Lightwood heir again.

No one knows that sometimes he has to physically clench his jaw to keep his screams in.

He doesn’t flinch when a friend insults his very sense of self, even if no one knows but him.

No one knows that sometimes he lets himself grow distracted-- he’s the top of his class and even if he is an exemplary student, he gets bored, too. So he daydreams of the little outside pâtisserie he’d visited every single Sunday because the waiter was cute and always gave him free des pain au chocolat.

By winter break, the little life summer had given him is snuffed out completely, mercilessly. He’s crumbling under the weight of expectations as graduation approaches. Some kids get a few months, up to a year off, for the Grand Tour, an archaic yet fun pastime for shadowhunter elite.

Alec will not be one of them. He will return directly to New York to begin more formal, specialized training of how to be the Head of the Institute, while also being put onto active duty.

There’s no rest for him.

There’s never any rest.

Alec’s day’s pass in a blur. He does his best not to think about it too much because it’s just too fucking depressing.

This is his life. This is the rest of his life.

There’s nothing for him.

Alec is the best at everything. He has to be. There’s no room to be anything but perfect.

He’s the perfect son, perfect student, perfect shadowhunter.

Alec supposes that things could be worse. It’s foolish, naive and unforgivably childish, but he wishes that he could know who Alec is. It’s so basic as to be stupid, but it’s true.

He wonders if he’ll ever find out.

He walks through the museum, lost in the paintings. They’re rich and vibrant and each has an achingly captivating story to tell. He gets lost in it sometimes. More often than not he visits a museum, a bookstore, the florist across town, and he loses track of time.

He doesn’t feel so alone here.

Truthfully, he rarely feels alone these days. That despondent loneliness that had filled him fit to bursting for so long is a phantom sensation. It feels like a lifetime ago.

He’s found a person to get lost with.

Magnus is on the other side of the room, analyzing a portrait. He’d sworn he’d ran into the object on the streets of Dublin almost a hundred years ago and Alec had just raised a brow and headed to the next piece.

Alec leans closer to the art, the better to detail the sweeping lines of color and chaotic subject. He’s startled out of his reverie by a hand sliding into his back pocket as a man comes to his side.

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs. “Ready for dinner? Our reservations are in twenty minutes and it’s a little bit of a walk.”

Distractedly, Alec nods and lets his husband pull him from the room, through hallways and galleries, and the gift shop.

As he follows Magnus, Alec feels a burst of joy hit him. It’s date night. The museum had been Alec's pick-- the Met was showing an exhibit on Irish street art this season-- and dinner had been Magnus’s decision. He’d been infuriatingly tight-lipped about it all week and Alec has a suspicion that it’s going to be the new Lebanese place in Lower Manhattan that Magnus had been raving about since it opened.

Alec wraps an arm around Magnus’s shoulders and pulls him to his side, kissing the top of his head. Magnus’s face is down-turned but Alec manages to see his grin at the gesture.

The two of them walk down the sidewalk. Alec's comfortable, sinking into the peace that eluded him for oh so long.

He’s all of the things he’s always been. A politician, a soldier, an anchor. But he’s also Alec and Alec likes dadaism, oreos, and Netflix. He’s Alexander that likes soft touches, lingerie, and lazy mornings with the love of his life.

He’s the best he can be and that's just fine.

[colinandezra-blog]

The Lobster interview Thrillist NY | September 9th 2016

Colin Farrell talked to me about love, longevity and lobsters by Matt Patches

‘God, love is still as confounding as ever. Just, what is it? It's unquantifiable.’

Manhattan's Baccarat Hotel is an old-fashioned luxury establishment where pleated silk drapes the walls, cafe tables are cut from immaculate white marble, and anything that could be crystal is crystal. But its bar is more like a cavernous speakeasy -- a chillingly empty one when I arrive to my interview with actor Colin Farrell to discuss his new movie, The Lobster.

Everything's a little off at the timeless setting -- Farrell himself, who appears to have walked off the cover of a fashion magazine; the view out the window, with mist drifting along the city block, just to make this feel as much like The Shining as possible; and the surreal conversation, which focuses on a movie about true love, carnal instincts, futuristic dystopias, and transforming human beings into animals. The venue for the chat with Farrell about The Lobster was so perfect that we didn't even notice that lobster rolls were on the menu.

This place is extravagant. C. God, it really is, isn't it? It's so empty.

Have you shacked up in any peculiar hotels over the years? C. The Parknasilla, the place we shot The Lobster, was pretty spooky not to just take the opportunity for some free publicity. Beautiful, but it was just old. It was on the west coast of Ireland, in a town called Sneem.

Is it close to where you grew up? C. About three-hours drive. From one coast to the other. Dublin is on the east coast and then Sneem is kind of southwest on the lip of the Atlantic Ocean.

In the movie, society threatens to turn your character into an animal if he doesn't fall in love within a 45-day window. Your brother had already been turned into a dog. Do you have a new sympathy for animals? Have you gone vegan? C. No. I am a carnivore, yeah. Or, omnivore. Every now and then I get a hankering for a piece of red meat.

What were you shooting when you learned about The Lobster? Did you experience dramatic whiplash? The movie is idiosyncratic in every way imaginable. C. I was in-between jobs and I don't think I had anything lined up. Had I lined up True Detective? I'm not sure if True Detective was on the cards because that came after The Lobster. I had seen Dogtooth, [director] Yorgos Lanthimos' previous work. I hadn't seen Alps yet, but I heard that the same director who did Dogtooth is making his first English language film. I thought this should be interesting, based on what an experience I had in the theater watching Dogtooth and how overwhelmed and assaulted my senses were. So I read the script of Lobster and I found it head-scratchingly good and beautiful and absurd and violent. A kind of kaleidoscopic experience.

Do you go to the movie theater often? C. I love going to the movies. Yeah, all the time. I'm a fan of film, first. I would hate just because I'm involved in the making of films for that to cut into my enjoyment of them as a cinema-goer. Room had a really kind of strong effect on me, when I saw Room. That moved me because of the writing and particularly the physical situation in the first hour of the film, it felt like there was a particular cinematic [experience] that was created, represented by the unusualness of the world that she presented to the child. I think that Brie Larson is amazing, but just to see a kid go through what you see that child go through in the film, I thought was incredibly moving.

The Lobster speaks universally about love, but do you think the idea of people scrutinizing romantic relationships satirizes Hollywood in a specific way? C. Not at all. I think the filmmakers have bigger sights than having a poke at Hollywood or any of those conventions. Yorgos and his co-writer start off with whatever the idea is they start off with, whether it's to do with romantic love or relationships. Then it branches out and becomes bigger and bigger and, as it needs to, the story involves.

So you didn't binge-watch The Bachelor to prep for the movie. C. No, never. That's my sister.

You and she attended the Met Gala together the other night. What the hell is that event like? C. Crazy, man. You stand there and you go on the red carpet and then you walk around the museum and then you sit down and have dinner and then you leave. It was my first time there. It was easy, actually -- it wasn't as overwhelming as I thought it would be. The red carpet was a bit of a big affair, but it was all incredibly well-orchestrated. Jesus, it was like a military mission.

The Lobster swings for the fences with its exploration of love. Did you walk away from the movie with romantic enlightenment? C. No, no. God, love is still as confounding as ever. Just, what is it? It's unquantifiable.

Though there are reporters who scrutinize your love life on a daily basis. That must be relatable. C. Yeah, there's that. Through the years you learn to try and turn a blind eye to that. It's not always possible to ignore what's being said or what's being spoken of in regards to you life. I live in Los Angeles, but I don't feel like I live in Hollywood. I truly don't. I'm not outside of it in a negative way. I'm not not part of the community. I go to the Golden Globes or whatever and I see people that I work with or people that I've gotten to know a little bit through the years. Outside of that or outside of the twice a year where I may step on a red carpet, I have no part in that world. I have a couple of kids and I have a couple of mates.

A big shift from a decade ago. C. Ah, yeah, ten years ago I was more... Life was just different. Just tipping 40 now, so life is very different than it was ten years ago.

Your character wants to become a lobster because he'll live for 100 years. Share the feeling? C. I wouldn't mind living for 100 years.

Really? What would you want to see? C. I don't know, whatever year 87 provides for me.

What will they think of Minority Report in 100 years? It's kind of a bit dated already! No, no, but shit's just moving very quickly. Retinal scans and tube stations and shit. Things are happening very fast.

Is that scary for you? C. No.

Now a moment of reflection. It's been a year since you jumped to HBO for True Detective. How was that experience, in retrospect? C. I loved it. I did, I loved that character. I loved playing Ray Velcoro. I really, really did. I could have kept going with it for a while. I know the receipt of it was sketchy. The first year was so strong, across the board, and it was such a shock to people. It came out of nowhere, seemingly, so the expectation was high and also the expectation of disappointment was present and all that kind of stuff. But I loved, from the inside, telling that story. I loved it.

[thedeskside]

The Deskside: Faith Coates

Welcome to The Deskside, our interview series where we connect with up and coming creative women who are carving out their own special spaces in this wide world. We talk about their careers, experience, personal dilemmas, creative strategies, and more.

Faith Coates leads a fully customized life, pre-pandemic.

The Stats

Name: Faith Coates

Company: The Artful Marketer & XYUandBeyond

Industry: Marketing and Strategic Planning

Find Her on Social:

LinkedIn

Facebook

Pinterest

How did you make the leap? 

I like to say my kids wouldn't run away from home so we did, which is very true. I am constantly astounded at how many young people just hang around their hometowns and don't grab any opportunity to travel.

Apart from that, I grew very tired of crappy jobs that only contracted you for a year and paid you nothing. In my last job over 4 years I raised over 2 million dollars in extra revenues, and my rewards were yearly contracts at pathetic wages. So when my husband took early retirement from the Post Office I decided to hell with this and we made the decision to go traveling. We didn't have a fantastic income by any stretch and there was no way to live in Canada on that tiny pension. So we decided to go and housesit and save ourselves mortgage and rent. We found traveling in Europe is just so damn cheap, I mean I can fly from London to Dublin for less than it costs to take a train from my hometown of London to Toronto.

As a result of that decision and my stay-at-home boredom, I decided to put my talents to use in helping other entrepreneurs. I specialize in working with socially-minded entrepreneurs who not only want to support themselves but give something back to the community. I work a lot with creative types - from chefs, travel bloggers, not for profits and social enterprises to artists who are starting a new business and need all the practical help with writing a strategic plan, marketing on social media, and just general business guidance.

I call myself an archi-anthropologist, in other words, I can see the big picture, the whole building, or beyond the box if you like, and all the thousands of details that are critical to developing and supporting a business culture.

My third sense can literally ‘see’ the way a business needs to strategically plan for success. I can take an entrepreneur's dreams and make them a reality.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

A writer.

What was your first job ever? Did it help you in your current role?

Working in a record store. I suppose it did in a way. I became fascinated by the people who shopped there—they were obsessed with music and it made for fascinating people watching. It also became very clear that the musicians and creative types that were ‘managing’ the place were completely out of their depth in business.

What made you want to start your business?

LOL boredom inspired me! I simply can't sit around on a beach or the house without something to do. 

How do you explain what you do to others? 

I just people I am a Storyteller, that usually gets them asking more questions at which point I explain that I although I have no particularly artistically creative talents myself that I work with those that are creative to help them build successful businesses.

How long have you been doing this?

Probably for over 20 years, I just didn't realize it was a talent until I needed to create work for myself. I have been giving away information for years without valuing the fact that information really is power.

What is a day for you like? What is your routine? 

We get up around 6ish and Alan walks the dog and I get the animals breakfast for them (if there are pets at our housesit). After that Alan cooks breakfast and I sit down at my computer to work for a few hours. If it's a hot location (like we are now in Cyprus) we go for a swim either at the pool or find a quiet, easy access beach and go for a swim.

When we get back I go back to the computer for a few hours if necessary or simply relax outside and read a book. We often just go for a drive if we have a car available just to see the sights and explore new areas. I can't resist a museum or ancient monuments and sites. I also love a farmer's market and I am a true foodie at heart so exploring regional cuisines and taking food tours is heaven for me.

How do you end your workday?

Sometimes it feels like I don't, I am constantly reading or learning things and I love finding information and doing research. Others may call that work but I love it.

How did you go about starting your business?

I started writing a travel blog to keep our friends and family posted. From there it just sort of grew organically. I got asked to develop blogs for friends and family that had small businesses and I loved it so much I decided to try to do it for other people. So I started promoting my travel blog as a sort of portfolio of work. I got a lot of traffic from connecting to tourist groups and places through Twitter and Pinterest and it grew from there and then I started mentoring some online entrepreneurs who didn't realize they were entrepreneurs. So I started The Artful Marketer and now I work with a few clients that are establishing businesses that have at their hearts a social conscience and give back to the community.

What are your biggest responsibilities as an entrepreneur?

Understand your value and not compromise it.

Always be totally honest and transparent with your clients.

Do what you say you are going to do and to do it as well as you can.

Be ethical, reliable, and meet your deadlines.

Always tell the truth to new entrepreneurs and freelancers.

Give back and share as much as you can without jeopardizing your own business 

What has been the hardest part of your transition?

Keeping my husband occupied and not ignoring him when I kept wrapped up in working.

What has been the easiest part of your transition?

Selling everything and becoming totally committed to minimalism. It is so incredibly freeing not owning anything and traveling with a carry-on.

What keeps you motivated?

The travel and the seeing new places that I never dreamed I would get the chance to, and getting to stay with and spoil other people's pets because as a traveler you don't get to have pets so for a little while we get to love someone else's furbabies.

How do you define success now?

Same as I always have, being your own person, speaking the truth, standing up for what is right, and giving back as much as you can. 

How do you prevent burnout?

For me, I go and read a book. I love books that involve history, mystery, and good guys fighting bad guys James Rollins and  Kathleen McGowan come to mind. When I want something different I turn to Kelley Armstrong a brilliant Canadian writer—she wrote the Werewolf series they turned into a TV show.

What do you think is the most important characteristic to have for someone who wants to take a similar career route to yours?

Willingness to learn new things and do your homework. Don't buy into the "dream it, believe it, and abundance will come mindset". If you want it you are going to have to work damn hard at it and sometimes you may get some luck that helps but mostly you will work your ass off to make it a success and a lot of times you will fail and that sucks, but you have to brush yourself off and get moving again. Persistence I think would sum it up.

What do you wish you knew before starting out on your own path?

One, I wish I had valued myself more. I ended up giving away my talents for free and making tons of money for other people.

Two, be careful who you trust and make sure you listen to your gut instincts.

Is there someone out there that you admire?

Not really work idols I respect and love women like Gloria Steinem, Maya Angelou, Bell Hooks, and Audre Lourde are all my heroes.

What is your favorite thing about your industry?

Meeting folks who are so excited and passionate about their business and want to inspire others.

What do you have on your desk or working space right now?

An iced coffee, my notebook and pens, and my computer and phone. Oh yes, and it’s damned hot here right now so I have a package of baby wipes that I just took out of the fridge for cooling down with.

What do you want other women in similar situations to know about your chosen career path?

If you have the desire to get out or are planning it - try to get out as soon as you can. Start getting rid of stuff, research all your options for traveling and living abroad or even another place. Look into housesitting, house swapping, co-work spaces, or even just getting an apartment, someplace you never thought possible, and move. Start building an online business or career now so you can make it move with you.

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[darcydzuban]

Leaving My Fears Behind on the beaches of Ireland

“Where is your destination?”

“Dublin.”

“And who are you traveling with?”

A pause. “Myself.”

The security guard glances up at me then asks, “Do you like whiskey?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Do you like Guinness?”

“Who doesn’t?” I responded.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” he said handing me back my passport.

I roamed the broad halls of Newark Liberty International Airport, realizing that this would be the theme of the trip I was about to embark on: myself. More importantly, being by myself.

For one week, I was going to remove myself from the comfort of my familiar everything and travel to the west coast of Ireland to take part in a riding tour of Sligo’s landscapes. Being That Horse Girl all throughout school, this trip highlighted a hallmark of my being. Horseback riding has always been both a goal and fear of mine. What would I do without riding? But what if I wasn’t good enough? I held onto the anticipation as I made this first step into my adventure.

It was the first major decision I made as an adult. For the longest time I felt I was under constant barrage of the “be brave” mantra by a myriad of social media and a personal promise to myself.  Although I felt I needed a desperate dose of bravery in my life, I kept asking, “What am I being brave about?” What deliberate choices was I making to be valiant in my efforts to actually do what I wanted? I didn’t realize that, like most things, bravery must be learned.

I needed to practice being daring, even if I didn’t feel like I was.  My chest ached with the weight of ‘what ifs’ and hypothetical questions. I started wishing the trip was already over and I was home again. Already, I was placing too much pressure on myself and the trip. The fear of failure sank deeper because I was already questioning my abilities on this trip before it began. Could I do this alone? What if something happened? What if I wasn’t good enough to ride the available horses? What if I didn’t truly enjoy myself? What if I wasn’t meant to travel? That Guinness was starting to sound pretty good. I had packed fear like an extra carry-on.

I had an exercise in that fear within a few hours of landing. The clocked ticked closer to the time I was supposed to meet someone from the riding company to take me to the hotel. The pickup time came and went and I was still looking around, trying to identify someone who was also trying to identify me. I thought, “Well, I made it this far. Time to figure out a way home.” Tears in my eyes were threatening to spill over during the course of an hour. My shaking confidence was a thin veil as I desperately searched the airport. I finally spotted a man with a clipboard that was covered in horse pictures who apologized for being so late. All of that worry and grief I pulled along because I had assumed if something went wrong it was a disaster, when in actuality I learned a lesson about staying calm under the duress of traveling jitters.

The adventure had started, and we explored green every day in every which way, ending with a tall brown Guinness every night. Our bodies were too exhausted for anything else, but our hearts were content. There was only one other rider on the trip. I was already meeting new people and understanding how two women from different backgrounds could come together and enjoy an adventure through the common denominator of horses. We crisscrossed castle grounds, headed up and down a mountain, went through forests, side roads, and up major highways. Kids would come running out of their houses when they heard my mare for the week, Muldoon, clip-clopping up the street.

There were still moments that I felt unsure of my movements and actions. I had no conviction when asking Muldoon to canter, or how I could help when we made it back to the stables and our feet were on the ground again. One morning before we set out, I asked the guide if I should attempt to tack up my own horse.

“Attempt?” he asked playfully. “Why don’t you just do it?”

Oh. Right. Duh. More than a little embarrassed, I fumbled for a moment with the task, but managed to prepare my horse for the trek ahead feeling inspired by the simplicity of the guide’s comment, rather than ashamed. Muldoon was eager to move forward that day, and (using a battered beer keg as a mounting block) I easily stepped into the saddle to take on the the day. Adventure isn’t always perfect, instagrammable moments (although I captured some great GoPro footage to share with friends). Sometimes, it’s accepting the awkwardness as a part of process.

On the last day, we rode on the beaches around Coney Island in true Irish weather that had transformed our day. I could see the bright, emerald fields that rolled up the mountain peeking out from the blanket of fog that remained low throughout the day. They cast their gray reflection on the glassy beach, now pin pricked with our horses’ hoofprints. Spread before us was the bay, a silver serving dish that held the mirrored sky between the surrounding hills. Wind screamed in our ears and tossed our horses manes. Rain spit in our eyes and forced us to turn our faces. We made our way to a line of large stone markers on the horizon, set in place to guide cars across the bay during low tide. Amidst the whirling winds and biting cold seeping into my hands, the markers stood in their silents posts. I looked back at them before we kicked into a gallop and realized where I was. I wasn’t in an arena to train, perfecting my position and being critiqued. I had made it to a different country by myself to experience my favorite pastime in a different and thrilling way. I was seeing Ireland through a horse’s ears. I felt at home in the saddle. I was in control. My body melted into the movement of Muldoon’s as her legs pounded the sand and propelled us further. My own horizons were expanding before me because I took what I love, and ran with it. I got to feel the ups and downs, the turns and tides of the tucked away roads of a country that was new to me in an organic experience.

I hadn’t thought travel was for me because I hadn’t been exposed to it. At age 27, I had barely left my New Jersey hometown. But I’m making strides. I chose to make this happen, and I couldn’t be more proud for following through. The need to go after what I had set out to do outweighed the fear from never doing it before. I had to seize the change, and there is something so rewarding about seeking it out. People suggest traveling with someone to find out if you mesh well, and the same could be said to find out if you mesh with yourself. This trip eliminated the thoughts of what I couldn’t do, and showed me what I could do instead.

[shakesonaplane]

15 Years Later, Cambridge for a Day

Seasons greetings! You might’ve noticed that it’s been a bit since my last post. As I was aggressively traveling most of the year (including before my move), I decided having a few weeks in London would be preferable. That didn’t really mean I stopped traveling, as I made work trips to Dublin and Copenhagen, but for my personal sanity, I stuck round London for a while and had some fairly unique experiences in this lovely city I now call home.  That said, after the 3 weekends in a row, I got a bit antsy and decided to check off a big item on my “I now live in London” list: a jaunt to Cambridge.

Jesus College, the location of my first British landing, and not where Jesus actually went to school

You might be wondering why Cambridge was an obvious choice on my list. The truth is that Cambridge was the first place I ever visited in the UK. Back when I was 17, my good friend Ankur Poseria (that’s right, he has a Wikipedia page) and I attended a summer program at Jesus college in Cambridge. That summer was my first real “away” experience from home and also my first foray into the British life. Suffice it to say, after countless sausage rolls, international conversations, dives into British slang and afternoon teas, I was hooked. So upon moving to London, I figured a trip to Cambridge was in order. I packed up my trusty day bag (aka small gym bag), popped over to Kings Cross at 9:30am and 45min later was in Cambridge faster than the majority of people I work with commute everyday.

Feels like an advertisement for Leon, but honestly I just needed the coffee boost so early on a Saturday

To give you some context, I was 17 years old when I went to Cambridge last. But if you know me at all, you know I have a weirdly specific memory, so walking through my old Jesus College haunt was kind of like walking back in time. So after a quick (and mediocre) brunch at Black Cat Cafe, IU sauntered over to the place that used to house the (somehow) skinnier version of me for a year. Visiting the old spot reminded me of so many weird firsts I had that summer: first time staying in a “dorm”, first time doing yoga, first British-style breakfast (first time learning I don’t enjoy fungi to start the day) and first time realizing that Australian and British accents are quite different (sorry mate). As a small town boy in Ohio, the Cambridge experience was amongst the most exciting things I’d ever done. Nevermind the curfews, lack of drinking, and Monday - Saturday of courses (thanks Oxbridge Programs)…my summer there was a little slice of sarcastic-humor heaven. That and it instilled in me some lovely slang for a few months which I have now re-practiced to perfection.

Trying to remember what grass I was allowed to walk on and what grass I wasn’t proved more difficult that I realized

After the lovely trip down memory lane, it was time to get out and explore a bit of the town to see what had changed. The walk into town, which seemed like quite the hoofing when I was a kid (and unused to long walks) was brisk and quick (with even a bit of British sun popping out).  What had felt like a big city in my youth was now a cozy little town with the regular stores I knew from 7 months of British living. The French Connection store was right where it was 15 years ago, the market was as bustling as ever, and the views of the major colleges and chapels was still a sight to behold. But, being an adult and having no restrictions on my time, I quickly realized how much I had failed to notice as a child, even though I had a month of time here. The tiny gardens, the luscious smells coming from the bakeries, the mysterious alleyways, streets packed with shops both local and national, they all seemed to remind me that sometimes you need to reimagine the great locations of your past. Seeing Trinity College’s craft market and venturing into chock-full alcohol stores as an adult was a joy I hadn’t had yet.

A craft fair is the best place in Cambridge to stumble upon a new £10 belt or an £8 clay vase, both items I kept forgetting to buy in London

As with any good trip, I did make a few choice selections for things to eat/imbibe, though I can’t say I really spent enough time on this trip consuming. If you make it here, I have but one really important recommendation for you: Fitzbillies. If you’re like me and decided to finally visit a place in the winter bc you were too busy beaching-it-up or watching Craig David this summer, you’re bound to find yourself freezing after walking around for so many hours. Stop into Fitzbillies before 4pm on a weekend and you won’t be disappointed. The easiest thing to do in England is find a good cup-of-tea, the hardest thing is to find something amazing to accompany it. I can’t say I’m proud of this (oh hell, who am I joking, I am), but an afternoon snack of fluffy pancakes + bacon and Chelsea Bread smothered in syrup was exactly what the doctor ordered. I only regret that I had but one meal to indulge here, though I am not sorry about how I chose to spend it.

Can I have one of everything and please make sure it’s covered in your syrup?

After my filling and oh-so-shameful brunch/lunch/supper, I met up with my brother-in-law’s cousin and her family to enjoy some family time. While this was by no means the exhaustive trip I would normally take and write about, it’s not what I needed. Sometimes a quick trip down memory lane is totally worth the 45min (and only £25 roundtrip) train ride. I do intend to return to Cambridge to take part in some (less freezing) punting, drinks at the Watson and Crick bar, and whatever the hell this was. Some other must-sees are the obvious ones, like Trinity College and Kings College, as well as the Corpus Clock, maybe the weirdest time piece I’ve ever seen. If you’re in London for an extended period of time, it’s hard to really give up a day in the bustling city to experience Cambridge and other UK spots, but I highly recommend it as a quick, off-the-beaten path. That goes for you Londoners too, as I was surprised how many people I’d spoken to who live here, yet have never been here.

Cheeky posing on the communal bench that held so many seemingly important conversations of my introspective youth (translation: we talked a lot about nothing here)

With that short little ditty, our story ends. I didn’t do the full on map and depth of my traveling here because I wanted to write this as a quick self-reflection of all the tinier places in the world that can mean so much. The rest of the year is meant to be quite the tour, though, so stay tuned for stories on capitals in Lithuania, returns to Istanbul, small town life in the Midwest and more. If you’d like to see more of the photos from the day, check out the album here.

Cheers! Abhishek

[theeasdaleblr-blog]

Planning a visit to Ireland with the kids? Chances are your itinerary will include stops at some of the most popular attractions, like Blarney Castle. While your experience will undoubtedly be tons of fun—-what kid doesn’t want permission to hang upside down somewhat precariously?—the fact is, your photos will probably look astonishingly similar to those taken by a plethora of other families hashtagging there. So what’s the key to capturing truly unique travel footage and creating unforgettable moments you’ll cherish forever? Making your way off the beaten path to lesser-known locations based on shared interests and passions.

  The Irish countryside is just the place for the animal lovers in your crew. Though there are many places to explore falconry in Ireland, there’s none quite like the National Bird of Prey Centre in Blessington, County Wicklow. Here you can meet over 40 different birds including Ireland’s own Golden Eagle. End your tour by holding hand-reared owls or a Harris Hawk while snapping away enough photos to last a lifetime.

Perhaps marine life is more to your liking? In that case, book a tour to meet Fungie the Dolphin, who has been cheerfully greeting visitors to Dingle, in the County Kerry, since 1983. He’s such a local legend there’s even a statue of him in town!

Is your family the type that runs a 5k together for fun on holidays? Ireland is the perfect place to get your sporty spice on. You might even be surprised to hear the coast here is becoming known as a great surfing destination. Sligo is a particularly good spot if you’re dealing with a wide range of abilities, as it has waves for beginners and experts alike. There are even surf schools offering classes specifically for girls and women.

If you have a need for speed, be sure to make a stop at one of Ireland’s thrilling zip lines. A relative newcomer to the game is Castlecomer Discovery Park in Kilkenny, featuring the country’s longest over-water zipline at 300 meters long and 30 meters high.

Or maybe you’re looking to reach new heights as a family. If so, a visit to the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge is in order. Built 1755 by salmon fisherman, the bridge is suspended 100 feet over the ocean. It’s high enough to satisfy even the biggest adrenalin junkie.

Have children who dream of a career in pro sports? Give them a taste of the fame with a tour of Croke Park, home to traditional Gaelic games. Accommodating over 80,000 fans, it is one of the largest stadiums in Europe. Learn the history of Irish football, hurling, and walk the pitch and through the players’ tunnel here. Just think of all the photo ops!

  Natural wonders are some of our best teachers (and also the best places to take pics). Your family will be blown away by The Burren, vast limestone fields located in County Clare that make it feel like you might just be walking on the moon. More than 80 tombs scatter the area, some dating all the way back to the Mesolithic Era. The most famous of these is the Poulnabrone, a gravity-defying stack of enormous rock slabs dated over 5,800 years old. The epitome of cool? We think so.

Also in County Clare, buried deep below the earth, you’ll find the Aillwee Cave. Stalactites and stalagmites plus one thundering waterfall and another frozen one make this dark destination a great place to explore. Calcite samples from here have been dated as far back as 350,000 years. Say what?

Big imaginations demand over- (and under-) sized activities. For the dreamers of the family, be sure to make a pit stop at Tara’s Place. Here, incredibly detailed miniature rooms reign supreme. The 22 rooms on display took over 20 years to make, with many of the pieces carved from bone by Napoleonic prisoners of war.

Along the same small lines, be sure to go on a fairy walk while in Ireland. Trying to find the diminutive sprites that fill Irish folklore is an incredible flight of fancy for the young and old alike. Erica’s Fairy Forest in Cootehill is particularly charming and has an origin story that will choke everyone up, but you’ll find similar spots to enjoy throughout the countryside.

Want to go big before you go home? The Giant’s Lair and Adventure Park at the Ring of Guillion is the place to be. Just imagine how many likes you’ll rack up with pictures of your “tiny” family next to the enormous giant’s table and chair found there.

Want to give your kids a bit of a history lesson while having fun at the same time? Ireland offers a wide variety of places that fit the bill. In Dublin, be sure to schedule some time at Dublinia, which recreates life as it was here in Medieval and Viking times. Their interactive recreations tend to really capture young minds.

In the county, Wexford, pay a visit to the Dunbrody Famine Ship. An authentic replica of a 1800s boat, costumed performers demonstrate what the Irish emigrant experience was like during the difficult times in Ireland. It will make everyone complain less about travel times and a crowded car, that’s for sure.

Or for the ultimate chills and thrills, take a tour of Loftus Hall. This now-abandoned estate is said to be the most haunted place in all of Ireland. Legend has it the devil himself roams the grounds here. Freaky!

By tailoring your Ireland vacation to your family’s shared interests, you’ll be sure to make it the best trip yet. Your kids will thank you for scouting out all the coolest spots in the country. Bonus points:  Everyone back home will be amazed at what a savvy digital traveler you are.

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[silewalshcoach]

Working my way through my #thesis, one key interview to go and then its a case of exploring the data and writing it up. . I was never acedemic and I'm still not! I sat my secondary school exams with a voice recorder as my writing (by hand) was too impacted by my #dyslexia to accurately reflect my learning. . I didn't think I'd ever make it to university, write books, run a business or be good at something. . In school I was always only "good enough" and only really excelled at organising the art day every Friday (oldest of 3, I knew how to get kids lined up, swapped out and tidied up quickly 😂) . The thing is while I was only ever good enough, I didn't really excel in school which meant every achievement or mark was earned, really earned. Usually in planned out, bite sized, committed steps. Its just how it was if I wanted to achieve anything in academia, I had to put more work in. . I tried to back out of this thesis, hide for fear of only getting a good enough mark after living and breathing it for over a year. I feared the word count, the workload, the referencing and everything else that comes with "What if I fail?" or "Does it even matter?" . The thing is, if we care about it, it does! When we care about things, we need to commit to our care about them, whether we get great, gpod enough or poor results. . We need to stop looking for permission, trying to do it like others or valuing what others value. If we care, then thats where we need to show up, committed and taking the risk, not because we will succeed but because we won't regret commiting to the things we care about. And we commit to enough things for all the wrong reasons, imagine the difference it would make if we committed to what really mattered to us. . Coaching Psychology for Life & Business Info@silewalsh.com Free phone consultations Get Clear, Get Focused & Move Forward! 💡Coach 📚Author 🎙Podcaster 🎤Speaker 🌎#Dublin, #Cork & Online #lifecoaching #wellbeing #goals #success #personaldevelopment #professionaldevelopment #resilience #selfacceptance #mentalhealth #recovery #emotionalintelligence #motivation #selflove #selfawareness #positivity #selfhelp #Drumcondra #Dublin9 #corkcity https://www.instagram.com/p/BySDg61l6_M/?igshid=10ii5jye1s55k

[roamingholiday]

Friday, August 11th 2017

There is nothing good about waking up at 3:30 in the morning. Nothing.

We sat in exhausted silence around the kitchen table. I shared the last of my rice crispies with my roommate, because we needed to get something in our stomachs before leaving, but were so tired that we felt slightly sick.

We called a car at four, and got tot he airport by 4:45. I’m sure you’re very surprised to learn that there was practically no one on the road.

The car ride was also spent in silence, because everyone was too busy nodding off against the windows to make conversation.

There was a similar lack of people at the airport at 5:00 in the morning, so we got through security fairly easily. I think. I don’t actually remember that bit, but we certainly were all there past security when we found an open drug store where we could get sandwiches and wake up a little with second breakfast.

The flight was equally unmemorable. I assume I slept, or perhaps I simply stared at the ceiling for the amount of time it took. It was only about an hour, after all, so I really could have blinked and been there, practically, even without sleeping.

Our seats were near the back, all grouped together so that my entire row was people that I knew. That was very pleasant, made the whole did-I-accidentally-drift-onto-your-shoulder-in-my-sleep conversation at the end much less awkward. We disembarked the plane from the back as well, which was the first time I’ve done that. Walked down the steps right onto the tarmac. The stinging cold air of the Irish morning did a fairly good job of shocking me awake, as did the unusual route into the airport, which involved wandering past several planes, all of which were fairly…. distinctive.

I thought the four-leaf clover thing was some kind of rude American stereotype, but clearly I was mistaken.

We had no luggage to collect other than our carry-ons, so we made fairly good time out of the airport- until immigration.

My roommate, though from America, is a citizen of the EU.

(Well, actually, she’s a citizen of Britain, so no longer of the EU, but she’s still got an EU passport, is the important thing.)

She went into a separate line from us, and we all felt very guilty, staying together like this while she was all alone. That is, until it became clear that she’d waltzed through in about ten minutes, and gone on to find a comfortable seat to wait for us to stand for an hour waiting to be let into the country. Ugh. Is it too much to ask for a comfortable chair on wheels to carry me through the line while I take a nap? Is it?

After that, which was just lovely, really, we reconvened just outside the exit, and discovered that no one had a plan for the rest of the day. We spent a full hour in line, and never once did we think to have any sort of discussion about what we would do now that we’d successfully made it to the country. Perhaps we were all anticipating spending the weekend being detained by Irish immigration.

After a long conversation that mostly went something like:

“What should we do?”

“I’m tired.”

“We can’t check into the air B&B until 2.”

“Okay, so what should we do.”

“Is there anywhere we can nap?”

“…. We can’t check in until 2.”

“Okay, so what should we do?”

“…. Sleep?”

We finally decided to go find some traditional Irish breakfast, so that at least if we ended up sleeping the rest of the day away, we’d done something productive in Ireland beforehand.

We googled a place, found a taxi big enough for the five of us (which is very difficult to do, by the way, outside of the US), and asked him to take us there. About halfway through the ride, we also came to the realization that along with typically being smaller, taxis in Ireland didn’t take credit cards. Thus began a frantic search through bags to make sure we had euro, because of course they use a different currency. Of course Britain had to go and be special and not standardize its money, and make life hard for poor American students.

We found it, eventually, luckily several of our party had previously been in France during this trip and had enough leftover euro to pay the driver, but it was a traumatizing couple of minutes.

The breakfast place was lovely, and we had what I now realize was our third breakfast of the day. Neither my roommate nor I felt that we could finish a full Irish breakfast on our own, but the mini Irish looked very small, so we ordered a mini and a full, and then I gave her my toast and my beans, and she gave me her bacon and one of her eggs. Neither of us touched the black pudding. Our stomachs were still rather rocky from getting about two hours of sleep and then flying, so we were not feeling particularly adventurous, but several of our other friends actually tried it. Apparently it’s essentially like sausage patties, if they were overcooked and somewhat tragic. And looked terrible.

Of course, because we’re all very mature vaguely 20ish year olds, when we left the cafe and noticed a couple pieces of playground equipment in the area right next-door, we definitely did not drop all of our bags in a heap and sprint for the spinning spider-web cone. We definitely didn’t all get on and make one of our friends spin us on it, nor did we in any way nearly fall off because we leaned back too far and were caught off-guard by the effect of centrifugal force.  We didn’t let our phones fly out of our pockets because we were stupid enough to do any of that with them tucked loosely into sweatshirt pockets.

And we particularly didn’t do that after eating a big, rich breakfast, when we were all feeling slightly queasy to begin with. Because that would be ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous. Childish and silly.

Definitely not something that I would absolutely go back and do again without a second of hesitation.

After we did not spend an embarrassing (and very fun, no regrets, even with the topsy turvy tummy) amount of time playing with equipment definitely built for five year olds, we discovered that we could go to our airB&B earlier than two, so we took taxis again. We were far too tired to puzzle out public transportation in a strange city.

Our airB&B was divine, though, well worth the wait.

It appeared to be made entirely from IKEA showrooms, but I’ve always wanted to live in an IKEA showroom, so.

And I had it all to myself because there were enough bedrooms that only one pair had to share.

My room was also the only one on the ground floor, which meant that, though I did have the street right outside my window, and all the noise that that implies, I also had the kitchen right next-door, which was very nice.

We all took a short tour around our house, deemed it acceptable, and then promptly retired to our rooms for a well-deserved nap. It was around one in the afternoon.

“We’ll meet up at three!” we said. “We’ll all set alarms and be ready to go explore Dublin!” we said.

At about 4:30, I heard a few footsteps come down the stairs, and discovered that two of my four friends had roused themselves enough to come downstairs and make a lackluster attempt at looking through the collection of magazine clippings detailing the various restaurants that the homeowner recommended.

We can at least have dinner somewhere interesting, we figured.

Of course, there were no good restaurants around us, and we had very few euro left, so we had to either try to find a cab company that would seat five people and also take credit cards, or we had to find out how to use public transportation.

I figured that one out, actually, thank you very much. Apparently there is an extensive bus system in Dublin but, much like the buses in Philadelphia, they only take exact change. Which would be exceedingly difficult to come across for us, who had no european change. Alternatively, there was a bus card, like an Oyster card or a metro card or whatever the new Philadelphia transpass system is called, and it could be purchased at about 400 different sites around the city.

The only difficulty is that the website could not tell us where those sites were found relative to us, so I had to painstakingly type in each name into googlemaps and hope that one of them would be in walkable distance.

Fortunately, there was one, only about half a mile away, so I semi-confidently (I will never be absolutely confident with directions, never) led my group of starving, bleary-eyed friends to a place that I hoped would sell us Leap cards.

Aren’t they just adorable?

The place turned out to be a gas station that not only could sell us all leap cards, but had an ATM, which took a load off of all of us, to be honest. There’s something very comforting about having the correct currency when going around a foreign city for the first time.

The bus ride to the restaurant that my friends had found was lovely, and the restaurant was entertaining. It was a pub, technically, which usually means that you order food at the bar, but instead here you ordered food at what was essentially a buffet station, where all of the options were laid out in front of you, and you got to watch them carve off your slices of ham, or chicken, or what have you, and then hand your plate to another person who would dish up a vegetable and a potato of your choice. Ireland does not kid around when it comes to potatoes, by the way.

(Which is super entertaining, really, because potatoes were originally a ‘new world’ crop, so they’re not native to ireland at all. Just like how tomatoes are a staple of Italian cuisine despite being only introduced in the last millennia, after they made it to the ‘new world’ and figured out that those big, suspicious red fruits were actually edible. Food history is interesting.)

I ended up getting a shepherd’s pie, which was an excellent decision, because I love shepherd’s pie, and I hadn’t had it yet since I’d gotten to Europe.

A very excellent decision.

The food was great, the atmosphere was lovely, and the entire pub was crowded full of people for some sports game thing that I definitely did not pay any attention to.

My friends stayed longer, but I ended up taking the bus home to finish writing the paper outline that was due at midnight that day. The outline came together well, though, so it was a good end to an… interesting day.

Let me reiterate, though. Nothing is worth waking up at three in the morning. Nothing.

[bravehardts]

Day 1 - Exploring Dublin

Arriving at Dublin airport, we paraded off the plane and through the terminal to the baggage claim without a hitch (Alex still wearing his BB-8 pajamas). All our bags showed up promptly and next thing we were out the door and on our way into Dublin. About 40 minutes later we were checking into our hotel, the Westbury, at about 8am, so of course our room was not ready, as expected. After a quick clothing change in some random store room behind the concierge, we were off to explore the city. At first we stopped at a coffee shop called Butler's, which also specializes in chocolate treats. That was a heavenly start to the day--our delicious coffee drinks, scones, croissants, and cronuts (no joke) were accompanied by free chocolates. On a TV above the counter was a looping advertisement showing all types of slow motion images of chocolate and whipped cream flowing out of candies. Alex's narration was priceless, and they should probably hire him to voiceover their advertisements in the future. A short walk took us to our first tourist attraction, Dublin Castle, which was mostly deserted at this time of the morning (it seems we beat the tourist rush). Most of the building is relatively modern (by European standards) but there is a standing tower from the original construction centuries ago. We didn't actually enter the Castle, nor learn much about it, but we walked around the grounds and explored the garden behind. Alex was able to stretch his legs a bit by racing around--a nice expression of freedom after the constraints of hours of flights. Another short walk took us to a museum experience called Dublinia, which contains various lo-fi interactive displays about Viking and Medieval life in Dublin. This was a nice option for kids and Alex definitely liked it, but it had very few artifacts, opting towards mannequins, fake weapons, and dioramas. Still, it had a nice immersive quality to it and some interesting displays. Allison's favorite was the demonstration of a Viking toilet, complete with an old mannequin dude grunting and groaning and making authentic flatulent sounds. As part of the exhibit, we hiked up stairs in the building to the top of St. Michael's tower, which had great views of Dublin. We had paid extra for our Dublinia ticket to tour the Christ Church Cathedral next door. The buildings are linked by a covered bridge and before you know it, you are in a beautiful gothic cathedral that dates back to 1040 (though most was "refreshed" in the 1870s). The cathedral was massive and displayed vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows, icons, artifacts, and tombs. A staircase on the side took us down into the crypt, which on first glance seemed straight out of Game of Thrones, minus the Dragon skulls and Stark corpses. This area was more of a museum ultimately with various displays of medieval clothing, gold cutlery, and of course some tombs here and there. Oh, there was also a gift shop. And there was a display of a mummified rat and cat, which apparently were found in the organ in 1860, somewhat well preserved. That was a big hit for Alex. For lunch we hit up a lovely pub called "The Hairy Lemon" with jovial hosts and delicious burgers. We are talking onion rings, thick bacon, and some kind of mayo goodness underneath. To wash it down, I had a Smithwicks Ale (in the proper pint glass no less, which always makes it taste better). And apparently you just take out the "hw" when pronouncing it, so "Smiticks" is the right way to order. I appreciated the lower carbonation which kept me from feeling too full, especially drinking a full pint as opposed to our wimpy American portions. Later in the afternoon we decided to walk over to St. Stephens Green, joining the now massive crowds on Grafton Street, the popular shopping street. St. Stephens Green actually reminded us of the Palace of Fine Arts in a couple of notable ways (except there is no palace)--there are small, shallow, man-made lakes, filled with seagulls and at least a couple of swans. And as luck would have it, we stumbled upon a legit playground for Alex to enjoy. He went nuts! No really, he did actually go nuts. He was definitely feeling the lack of sleep because he really was completely crazy, running around like a madman all afternoon. Luckily this craziness blended in well at the playground. It did not blend it so well in other areas, like at the pub, and on crowded city streets. After our outdoor adventure, we took some quiet time in the room where Alex watched kids shows in Irish Gaelic (he couldn't care less). And realizing just how close we were to complete kid disaster, we played it safe for dinner and went to Little Ceasers--no really we did. But not the US chain, but a small Italian spot 50 steps from our hotel (we counted). I think we ate in less than 20 minutes, and good thing we did because we would not have lasted to 21. And here we are at 7pm, 12 hours after we landed, with Alex asleep, the two of us not far behind. Plenty in store for tomorrow (Guinness anyone?), but first we need to prepare for the inevitability of a 3am child wake up.... to be continued.

[tcsnextgen]

How I met my Irish criminal, part one.

Ignore that bad title, I’m just sharing a little blurb that came to me and that I scribbled during my short offtimes at work today. I needed some more Vicrory and I also wanted to somehow shape out their first meeting a little, just for a start, and also for the fun of writing a bit of some of my older Present Gen characters. :D

(Settings/happenings are likely to change. This is, once again, really just a first rough scribble.)

________________

Vic meets Rory for the first time in Dublin. She has just turned 21, she grew up and still lives in Boston with her successful lawyer mom and it’s just likely that she’s in her last year of University or so, and she wants to take some time off and start exploring the world on her own. A classic scenario of some sorts (hey, I never said that my goal was to be super original, lol).

She’s on really good terms with her „aunt“ Charlie in Dublin. The two e-mail each other regularly and also talk via internet calls a lot, I think, and while Charlie offers to stay with her and Kieran (and Livie), I think Vic decides to rent a hostel room instead. She wants the whole student-travelling-overseas experience and not being pampered (it’s probably still James who pays for the trip, but hey, Vic works really hard and her stupid father swims in money and thinks she deserves it SO WHAT, logic has no place here). She’s confident and adventurous and looking forward to spending some time on her own in another country, but it’s still good to know that she has friends in town whom she can meet up with. So it’s settled. About four weeks in peaceful Ireland - a perfect plan!

Rory ‚travels‘ through the entire country and can also be found in England (and probably Scotland) at times but Dublin will be his 'base' (I just can’t see him staying in a small town like Galway for his purposes, lol). No one ever knows where exactly he is but of course he happens to be in Dublin by the time Vic is there.

(Charlie - who actually learned to drive properly over all the years, lol - insisted to pick up Vic from the airport and have her spend at least the first two days at their place so she can recover a little from her jet lag in a more familiar surrounding. Vic was happy and thankful for the suggestion so she agreed.)

SO, when Charlie pulls into the driveway to O’Connell manor, she already sees from afar that something is going on. There’s Kieran, seemingly arguing with someone in front of the house and, after another closer look, that someone turns out to be Rory. Charlie, having a rather bad feeling about this, parks the car and gets out. Kieran and Rory are indeed in the middle of a heated discussion but Charlie can’t make out what it is about. She will ask Kieran later.

Vic takes her backpack and gets out of the car as well and she overhears Kieran letting out a rather threatening sounding hiss, „Get to the fuckin’ point, Rory.“, and she can’t help but lean over a bit, to hear what’s going on, but Charlie urges her to come inside. Not before she drops a rather dry greeting, though.

„Rory. Great to see you.“

Rory grins at Charlie. „Right back at ya, gorgeous.“ He pauses for a second. His eyes wander over to Vic and he gives a little nod in her direction.

“Who’s that?“ he asks, his emerald eyes curious.

Startled because of the unexpected eye contact, Vic just stares at him.

It’s that moment.

(Her mom, Sophie, often jokes about how Vic was supposed to go through the ‘Attracted to Bad Boys/Girls' phase at some point but, for some reason, she never did. Sorry Sophie. Here it comes. Just a little later than expected)

It’s something about his attitude and his expression, Vic can’t really tell. The stranger named Rory isn’t tall. In fact, Kieran towers over him and yet Rory doesn’t seem to be impressed in the least. Despite his street tough looks, he is rather cute and has an adorable smile. Vic wonders why Charlie and Kieran are so tense around him. He seems easygoing and chill but she’s sure that the two know things about him she doesn’t.

And still. She can feel her heart beating faster. There’s something captivating about him, something that demands all her attention.

„No one.“ Kieran’s voice cuts into the moment. He sounds impatient and irritated.

„Oh c’mon Kiers, she’s hardly ‚no one‘. Show some damn respect.“ Rory insists.

„Yeah, I’m not ‘no one’ and I can speak for myself!“ Vic blurts out before Kieran can say anything but she instantly regrets it as she sees his stern expression. 

Rory however cackles at the remark and flashes another bright smile at her and Kieran now gives her a bland little smile. „Now’s not the time to pull a James, Vic. You go inside, I’ll join the two of you in a second.“

His tone is not harsh or unfriendly but Vic still feels that it is probably for the better to drop the subject and go inside.

„C’mon, sweetie.“ Charlie nudges her. With one last glance, Vic spies how Kieran gives Rory a firm slap to the back of his head and she hears him hissing again, „Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.“, but she eventually goes inside.

Vic drops her luggage in the entry hall and lets Charlie guide her to the kitchen. She takes a seat at the kitchen table, stretching her long legs a bit.

“You want something, sweetie? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be great!” Vic smiles. She feels a bit tired now that she has a chance to relax and a little energy boost seems like the right thing. Charlie smiles and nods and as she turns around to get the coffee mugs, Vic decides to address what she had just witnessed. She is most certainly curious and simply ignoring the subject seems weird to her.

„Who was that?“ she eventually asks while Charlie pours the coffee, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. „I mean… if I’m allowed to ask?“

Charlie sighs. „As long as you ask me, it’s fine, I guess.“ She bites her lip. „It’s a bit of a touchy subject for Kieran. That’s Rory, his nephew.“

Vic had already spotted the likeness and she remembers a few moments just now, when someone had mentioned Rory’s name. There weren’t many. She knows almost as much about the several O’Connell’s lives as she knows about her own but she now realises that everyone hardly ever talks about Rory and apparently there is a good reason for that.

Vic decides to not pry any further but Charlie turns out to be surprisingly talkative, almost as if she had been longing to talk to someone about it.

„He’s a bit… difficult. Left home early, met some really shady and crappy people. We don’t really know what he’s doing but he sure ain’t doing good.“ Charlie presses her lips into a thin line and takes another peek outside the window. The spot where Kieran and Rory stood was now vacant.  

„I’m sorry to hear that.“ Vic says as she hears the front door falling shut. „Must be hard.“

„It is.“ Charlie nods. „Well, I’m still hoping that someone’s going to give him a little nudge one day, one that points him into a different direction.“

„He doesn’t need a little ‚nudge‘, he needs someone to break his fuckin’ skull.“ Vic hears Kieran snarl from the entrance hall. „I happily volunteer.“ he adds, apparently more to himself because his voice now sounds a little lower, but Vic can still hear it and she can’t help but giggle to herself although the matter is hardly anything to laugh about.

„Darling.“ Charlie chides her husband, who now enters the kitchen. She glances at Vic and then looks back at him.

Kieran rolls his eyes. „You know I can’t get enough of you and your big heart, love, but y' gotta stop understating shit that doesn’t need understating.“ He ruffles Vic’s hair a bit as he walks by and gives her a smile and Vic looks at the two sharing a sweet kiss and hugging each other.

„I’m not trying to understate anything.“ Charlie mumbles against Kieran’s neck, placing another kiss. She pulls back and puts a hand to his cheek. „I’m just trying to not scare our girl here with crappy family stories.“

„Is the fuckwad gone?“ the husky voice of a teenage girl now calls from upstairs. All three of them now look into the direction where the voice comes from. Kieran lets out a cackle but his wife gives him a stern look and he bites his lip, albeit still smiling. „Sorry.“

„Olivia, language!“ Charlie calls right back.

16(/15)-year-old Olivia clomps down the stairs and heads to the kitchen. “Sorry, Ma, but you should really stop beatin’ around the bush at times. Everyone knows Rory is a fuckwad, including Rory himself.” She shrugs at her mother and then throws herself at Vic who happily returns the hug with a laugh.

Charlie gives her daughter a funny look, apparently at a loss at what to say in regards to that rather bold remark.

“It’s what I said.” Kieran mumbles out of his corner, now leaning at the windowsill with his arms crossed and Charlie rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Alright, I really don’t need you two teaming up against me. My house, my rules. You help Vic taking her stuff upstairs,” Charlie demands her daughter, “and you,” she now turns to her husband, “at least pretend you’re not enjoying the prospect of our kid turning into a total savage.”

“Ma, what the fuck?!” Livie looked at her mother, baffled.

“Yeah, yeah, shush now. Take Vic upstairs, your father and I need to talk about something.”

----

A few hours later, Victoria lays awake on her back on the guest bed in Livie’s room. Charlie had offered her the guest room in advance but Vic figured she would enjoy the younger girl’s company a lot and looked forward to having someone to chat about silly things with after a long flight.

That was before the thought of Rory occupied her mind. Vic felt a little bad for only half-listening to Livie’s ramblings but she couldn’t stop wondering about what had happened for things to turn out like they did.

“... thing is - it was so dull. I mean, ain’t that stuff supposed to be fun? Yeah, sure, his lips moved, my lips moved, we did all sorts of stuff if ya catch me drift, he had his hands in places any guy would dream of layin’ his hands on, I tell ya, but there were no fuckin’ sparks flyin’ anywhere and all I could think about was- Vic? You still listenin’ or have you passed out? Vic!”

“Oh. Oh. Sorry, Liv. My mind drifted off.”

“You tired? Sorry, once I start rambling-”

“No, I’m not tired. Not really.” Vic thinks about it for a second before she props up on her elbow, now facing Livie. “Liv?”

“Mh?”

“What happened?”

“What? What d’ya mean?”

Vic shifted a bit into a more comfortable position.

“With Rory.”

“Oof. I’ll be damned if I knew. All I know is that everyone turns to stone just at any mention of his name.” Livie makes a face.

“But why?”

“I don’t really know either. I think...” Livie bites her lip. “I think he’s doing some really fucked up stuff. No one ever tells me anything but I see it in their eyes. Which is all really weird because, well. Any time he talked to me so far, he was... nice. Really lovely, actually.”

“You called him a ‘fuckwad’ earlier.” Vic said, amused.

“Yeah, he seems to like that. No, kidding. I mean, I know he’s a bit of a creep and it really freaks me out how Pa acts any time he’s around and honestly, I think it’s better for everyone when he isn’t around. But he always treats me good, y’know? He never says anything bad. Asks how I’m doing at school and such. Treats me like an equal, actually. It’s really weird.”

“Sounds really weird. Does he live nearby?”

“I don’t know where he lives. Pa does. Town centre, I think.”

Vic isn’t entirely sure why she cares about it so much. It is none of her business after all but even those few moments with Rory earlier had left quite an impression on her. She feels a bit dizzy and decides that now is the time to distract her mind a bit.

She lets out a hearty sigh now.

“Okay, Liv. Sorry for not really listening earlier but I’m all yours now. Do tell me about making out with Corey Owens again, alright?”

Livie clicks her tongue and smiles. “Prepare for some steamy details.”

______________

There will be another part eventually, but it’s going to contain a rather suggestive bit and I’m going to post that on my pseudo-NSFW blog because of the folks here who don’t enjoy the thought of OCs screwing their brains out. :D I, however, am complete trash and thinking about OCs doing that kinda stuff is an essential thing in my own little trash world so yeah. Can’t wait to get to the trash part, lol.