Holiday Destinations

Travel is kind of a big deal for me, because I don't get to do it very often. I have big plans that are way outside my budget as it stands, but if I had to make a list of five places I'd like to see... well, that's exactly what I'm going to do now.

New York City

Beginning the Incredibly Clichéd List with NYC is no big surprise. I've never been to the States, but I've always wanted to go. We just aren't one of those families that had the money for a big holiday like that - sun holidays are expensive enough, and you can go on them and not worry about the whole Capitalist Nature of the place you're visiting. But New York? No, not a chance. Not one of us could have afforded to go there and justify spending money on most of what we wanted - which, from an Irish point of view, is a waste of a trip to New York. It's seen as a shopping holiday.

For me, though, it's more than that. I want to do the stupid tourist things. I want to see the city in the flesh that I've seen in comic books and movies for most of my life. I want to make this big Dream City a reality.

London

I've already been. I have to admit that right now. But I want to go back. I want to see the London Dungeons, and do the Jack the Ripper tour, and go see the big tourist attractions. Yes, my trip to London was amazing. Yes, I would do most of it again (the trip to The Who Shop was disappointing...). But we didn't have enough time for everything. So, I want to go back, and I want to do everything I missed out on. Even if it took me two weeks of being a Tourist-with-a-capital-T.

Barcelona

Again, I've already been. Twice, in fact. But I love it, and it was the last place we went as a family. I want to see the architecture again, and Monte Serat, and the Gaudi museum. Everything, really. I want to see the city, and relive some memories, and try some of the more authentic local cuisine. The Hard Rock Cafe is good, but it's the same everywhere you go.

Paris

I never thought a huge amount about Paris beyond it being one of the big romantic getaways for couples. But, and this is largely from reading Michael Scott's books, I've come to see that the city is full of this extra life. Take into account the fact that two of my favourite people from history lived in the city - Nicholas Flamel, because of the myths around his life, and Marie Curie, because of her contributions to Science and recognised achievements in Physics and Chemistry - and it's a package deal. There are at least a dozen other people and reasons I'm not even thinking about right now, and that's just more reason to go see the city for myself.

Rome

When I was college, I had three opportunities to go to Rome, and I could never afford it. Ever. I always regretted that fact. So, I want to go myself (or, you know, with someone - not the point.) Basically, I just want to be a tourist for a bit, and eat fresh pasta, and try catch a mass with the Pope, even if at that moment in time I'm not feeling the whole Christian-vibe thing.

And the rest...

It's bad, but Europe keeps calling for me to visit it. I want to see Amsterdam, and Auschwitz, and Berlin. I want to go to Stockholm, and Edinburgh, and Belfast (which, really, isn't that difficult for me to do!) The main thing holding me back is money, because full-time work at a rate higher than minimum wage just isn't a reality for me at the moment. But I want to make it happen. When I finish my Masters, I want to mark one of these cities off my list. I want to just get away for a while, get some experience in the world. I think, before I get bogged down in the world of Being an Adult, I need to do some soul searching abroad. It's cliché, and everyone talks about doing it, and I think, right now, I really just need to make it happen. No more fussing about over it. No more just thinking about it.

In Five Years

My friend Rebecca asked a question of people, sometimes, when she's trying to get them to really think about their lives. She asked them, Where do you see yourself in five years?, not just out of curiosity, but because of what their answer means to their current situation. If you see yourself married with two kids in five years, but you're currently single and childless, you either have high expectations for the future, or you need to really start taking relationships more seriously.

If you want to be doing something in five years - mothering, publishing, travelling - you need to be working towards that now.

For me, it comes down to a happy little mix of writing, publishing and travelling.

Don't get me wrong. I don't expect to become an overnight hit in the writing department. Writing books isn't how you make money from writing. The biggest earners, aside from the big bestsellers in the publishing industry, are usually screenwriters. Of the Average Joe variety of writer, screenwriters make the most from a single piece of work. (It's also the most competitive market - fun!)

But I'd love to be doing it. I'd love to be trying my hand at screenwriting, while continuing to write my books, and attempting something of a freelance career. It's a difficult life to get started in, nearly impossible to do while in full-time education as an Undergrad. student, but it's not outside of my reach at this point in my life. I have books for guidance on screenwriting and freelancing, and I understand the book publishing sector relatively well, and it's just a case of applying everything I have to that dream.

That's what this month is all about for me, with Operation Overdrive. I want to create my work-life balance now, with an over-the-top last ditch attempt before my Masters starts in September.

And that Masters is where the second part of my five-year-dream comes in: publishing. My Masters is in Multimedia, which will help build up a skill-set in digital image editing, video production, and audio production - among other areas - which I see as being vital for publishing in the future. I have my own plans, aside from wanting to work with a major publishing house in the UK or the US or even here in Ireland (though there are fewer publishers here), and I'm confident that once I get the ball rolling, I'll be able to sort out something big.

Obviously, my explanation here will be lacking in details while they're still being worked on, but I've already started working on what I want to do, and how I want to do it, and it's just a case of getting the background work in place before I fully commit to it all - including putting my energy into the Masters.

As for the travelling, that's where things get complicated. Conventional work wouldn't allow for travel, and neither would a low income, and I don't plan on living at home when I'm approaching 30. I could tell you all of the places I want to go - and I will later in the month - but that doesn't explain how I'm going to afford it.

The travelling aspect is where I get to see the world. I know I can't afford to do it now, not while I'm saving everything I've got for the Masters (because aside from the fees, I'd like to get my own equipment, like a new laptop, and a proper camera). But if I could make the travel part of my work, if I could use it as research, or as part of a freelancing job, then it makes the money put into flights and accommodation part of the necessary expenses.

It's a child's dream, I suppose, but growing older doesn't mean that those dreams have to go away. Growing older just means that I can make more sense of those dreams, and how to make them a reality. In five years time, I want to be doing just that.

Explaining the Absence

I've been absent from the Internet, by and large, for over a week now. The explanation is simple in some ways: I needed a break, and then I went on one. I was tired, to put it simply. Tired, busy, and trying to manage too many projects. The reason it's taken this long to say it is because of the second part of the explanation: I went on a break, and this made me even more tired. But it was worth it.

See, I went to London. It was my first time in Britain, and so my first time doing many of the things that can only be done in Britain. I plan on writing a few posts about my London experience, but this post is simply to say that I'm back in action...ish. I've put together a plan to catch up on my schedule, but I have to see how life affects it. It's easy to say, now, that I'll be posting every day again, but that's not always how things turn out.

My plans for the next month or so are simple: write as much as possible. Once the work on the play is done, I'll have a couple more evenings to myself per week, too, which should make a difference on the writing front. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Drama. It's the travel that I don't like. I don't get to do much on journey, but it's a long enough journey to make. There's about an equal amount of time walking as there is spent on the bus, and often I'm left waiting, and that's time wasted.

Aside from the writing, I have a couple of things I want to do. These include a Zom-B marathon, catching up on The Walking Dead, and reading through my collection of graphic novels. It's the simple things, really. I do also have Game of Thrones coming back, soon, so that's something. Otherwise, though, I'm just going to keep things calm, and let myself have a bit of fun for a while.

It's one of the things I realised while in London: I need to do more things that I enjoy that aren't writing. I need to get out more, and do more, and if money allows, travel more. I've already set my heart upon going to Edinburgh this year if the events at the festival are to my liking, so that's something. And, of course, I'll be returning to London. I have to. As you'll see over the next few blog posts, there's an awful lot of ways one can fill one's time when in London, and it's still possible to have so much left to do.

Time always seems to be the problem, eh?

A New Adventure

Something happened to me a couple of years ago that made me stop and look at my life as boring. I mean, I love writing. I love college, however odd that might be. I even like teaching and working in the bookshop. But I foresee a lot of repetitiveness in this life. Weekends at the shop can get very boring, especially when there are very few customers around. If I didn't need the money, and if it wasn't a handy place to work to get books and keep learning about them, I would like to leave. (In saying that, I love having a job, and I love the people I work with... I just know that I couldn't do that my whole life.)

Even teaching, however different the challenges will be every day, might become boring. (Of course, that does mean I would be doing it wrong...) I just feel that my life might become too much of a career. Yes, that's a good thing for some people, but I don't want to feel trapped by my job.

Writing will let me get away from the mundaneness of reality, but in the end it's not quite the same as living a life. There's more to life than just existing, and that's the problem with working in the bookshop and teaching for a living: there's the risk that all I would end up doing is existing.

I want to live, and that means more to me than just staying alive. I want to travel. I want to see things I've never seen before, meet new people, try new things. I don't want to just hear about life from other people. That's not good enough for me. If I can help it, I won't be staying still for most of my life (you know, unless you discount sitting in a chair to write my books).

And of course, even that life of getting around and seeing the world and meeting new people isn't complete if that's all I do. Then I just become a traveller. I want to write new fiction, push the boundaries of what I'm capable of and deliver new stories to people. Yesterday, two ideas I had for books - one of them a standalone, the other initially a series of adventures - suddenly expanded and grew. The standalone book takes my current Dungeons and Dragons character idea (I'm that cool) and mixes it with an idea for a novel I got many years ago. It's possible the standalone book will become a series or a trilogy in its own right.

The series of adventures has become something much bigger. I can't even talk about it or I'll give stuff away, but it's going to be one of the most enjoyable things I'll ever write, and it has so much potential to keep on growing. I want to write it after the Sam Richards and The Daughters of the Muse trilogies, or at least get a start on it. I couldn't even tell you how many books it will contain, at the moment, because it's just an idea, but it's going to take up a huge amount of my time.

Both are fantasy ideas, I should point out. That's the beauty of the adventure that is writing: every time I write a new story, I'm brought somewhere fantastical. Even with the Sam Richards Trilogy, set in Dublin, I'll be experiencing the world in a new way: I have to create a life I will never lead and look at the city I've known my whole life through the eyes of a different man. It's possible I'll write spin-offs to that trilogy, too, but that's all in the future when I can think about things other than the main books.

This isn't just the wild dream of a young man from Ireland. This isn't just some take on The Simpsons ("I want to live Marge! Why won't you let me live?!") or some flight of fancy that will go away. I want to get published, and not just once. I want to show people stories and I want to escape the trap of life that is repetition. So I won't be rich, not travelling and writing for a living (that's the ambition, anyway), but I know I'll be happy.

And as for teaching... well, that's for when I want to settle down. After all, aren't all teachers as old as the pyramids, anyway?

An Experience of Taizé

I won't be writing a whole four-day journal of my trip to Taizé, but I can at the very least give you a brief overview of it. It started in the airport, with thirteen of us meeting at half four in the morning on Wednesday. Tired, groggy and a little bit cranky but excited, we made our way through Terminal 2 towards tea and breakfast. Shortly thereafter, we were on a plane to Geneva.

Yes, we had to go to Switzerland to get to Taizé. This confused us for a while - not as much as getting lost in the airport confused two of us when we got there, mind you - but it soon became clear that the two hour bus journey to Taizé was still an acceptable mode of transport. By the end of the trip, it was a blessing - the Germans have to, today, take a bus home; it will take them about sixteen hours.

We stopped for lunch along the way, which really helped, considering we were too late for lunch in Taizé. If you don't know, by the way, it's a tiny little village in central France where about 100 Brothers live in simplicity, visited by thousands of people every week for prayer and work. There were only about 500 people there when we arrived, since the busiest period of the year had passed.

Our rooms held six people each: six students per room and the lecturer in a room with other people. It was literally a case of there being enough room for a single square shelf, three bunk-beds and space to walk to each bed in relative comfort. Of course, knowing we would need pillows would have helped. Pillows, knives, forks, wellies... okay, the list goes on a bit.

The daily routine was actually okay. I expected a lot worse, to be honest. We had prayer three times a day, which consisted of singing a lot of songs, mostly in languages we didn't understand, and a reading by a Brother. Following morning and afternoon prayer, there were meals. Supper was before evening prayer, but after a workshop.

Between ten and twelve, we worked. For some, it was easy - very quickly cleaning the bathrooms or making signs - and for others it was a little more strenuous - raking up ten bags' worth of leaves or putting tent floors into storage, piled ten foot high and weighing more than we would have liked. But it was fine. Except for the rain and the German splashing us with muddy water.

At three, there was a Bible study meeting. It wasn't fun, to be honest. We've already studied the Gospel of Matthew in college, and we arrived half-way through the week, so we were in a group by ourselves. Still, it was fine. We survived it.

When we weren't praying or at work or at a workshop or Bible group, we were free to do as we wished. This consisted of going to see Brother Roger's grave (the founder of Taizé, killed in August 2005 during evening prayer), visiting the Source (a very lovely lake), going to the Crypte (where there was an altar for mass), going to the two shops (one where we could buy hot drinks and chocolate, one where we could buy books and postcards and, in one case, a dozen pieces of pottery) or just resting in the dormitories. There was also a lot of music played by The Moceans, who found a lot of excited German and Swedish teenagers to adopt as fans.

Work and the hot drink shop gave us a chance to talk to new people. I got to meet a lovely American girl, Cristina, who's travelling around Europe at the moment. We're meeting up when she gets to Dublin, for milkshakes, or possibly something a little warmer. Dublin's a little colder than Taizé... There was also a friendly Canadian called Tom, who I didn't get to say goodbye to. Thankfully Cristina agreed to give him one of my business cards, so maybe we can keep in touch when he gets back home (he's going to be in France for another four weeks, though!).

Then there was the Germans. They were only outnumbered by the Swedes in Taizé, but they were a lot easier to talk to (mainly because they had befriended Cristina already and had become fans of The Moceans). So, we got to talk to a lot of them. I don't know half their names, but there's always the chance I might get an email from them, or they might add me on Facebook. I'd like that. Aside from the sign made for the band, the Germans also supplied another great memory: Haribo. They love them. Michael, Laura and Dorithia were hilarious when they got to eat them. They also sang at (yes, at) Cristina and I in German. That was hilarious! I love the Germans!


So, yes, it was a fun trip. We're all exhausted, and we had a highly emotional Friday evening prayer, but we got home safely. Now we just have to write a whole project about it. That'll be fun, too, right?

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

On Tuesday night, I stayed in a friend's house doing things like going onto the roof and watching The Wedding Crashers, and going to bed at half one. We got woken at half three by his flatmates' friends coming in drunk and loud and generally disturbing the peace. We fell back asleep, and woke at six. We left the apartment shortly before seven and walked to college.

Yes, we walked to college at seven in the morning. We met up with a whole bunch of other people who also went to college extremely early. We were all tired. Some of us were cranky. Mostly people were talking and laughing. We got on a bus. Yes, there was a bus at the college. I don't think I need to spell it out any further than that: we were going on a field trip. Only, you know, it wasn't going to be to a field. The bus left the college at eight in the morning. I was beside the college director. He made awkward small talk for a lot of the journey. It last three and a half hours and I went between being conscious and semi-conscious the entire time, never really falling asleep. We got food and drinks along the way, going through Kildare and Westmeath and Longford and Roscommon and then we were into Mayo and passing through Castlebar, and I thought two things: I've gotten phone calls in the middle of the night from here, and I know a writer on Twitter from here, I wonder if he'll see the bus.

We pulled up at half eleven at the foot of a mountain. Not just any mountain, though. Croagh Patrick, the biggest and most unforgiving mountain in the country. Lunches were distributed, the bathroom was visited, and a quarter to twelve a few of us set off ahead of the group. We began our great ascent into the clouds.

I went the entire way with three of my very good friends. There was a lot of struggling and swearing and forcing people to drink water. But we also talked a lot, laughed a lot, and did this thing called 'bonding'. We had to take a lot of stops, though mostly I just wanted to power through and only stop when I needed a drink. At the same time, I didn't want to try keep up with the people who literally ran for most of it, and I didn't want to go up alone.

One good thing about the climb was the scenery... almost worth it!

The mountain is no easy climb. The first 90% of it involves a steep walk covered with rocks, travelling at an awkward angle and knowing you have to keep up some sort of speed or you won't get to the top quickly enough to get down to the bus before it leaves. When you get towards the end of the climb, it becomes a lot steeper. The climb is harder, but you have the use of your hands at this stage, so you can at least take some of the effort off of your legs. But if you want to stop, you do so almost vertically.

We reached the peak after about two hours and ten minutes with at least fifteen minutes of that time being used for the frequent rests. We weren't the last ones there by any account, which meant we could catch our breath... this translates to waiting in a cloud for the rest of the group to show up. Eventually we were all there, over forty of us - the most that's ever gone from the college - and we had mass. Outside the chapel. In a cloud. Needless to say, we didn't waste time getting into the line out of the cloud and down the mountain once the mass was over.

But this part was equally tricky. Or trickier. Less use of hands at the top, still very steep, and practically sliding down some of the way. The rocks were treacherous, and I'm fairly sure I twisted my ankles into uncomfortable and painful positions about a dozen times each on the way down. Thankfully I was not injured. My toes were in all sorts of pain, mind you, pressed against the inside of my runners for the steepest part of the journey down.

We spilt up into our groups again, based on how fast people could walk, mainly, and we had our laughs and our long chats and we even stopped to take some group pictures. It was windy and we kept hurting ourselves, but it was fun. When we eventually reached the bottom, the first thing I did was wash my hands. The second thing I did was drain half a bottle of water and eat some biscuits and crisps.

By the time the bus got going again, I was asleep. Like, literally passed out. I woke up just as we cross the border into Roscommon and thought, Where the hell did Mayo go? We kept going on, until we reached the wonderful drive-through-quickly county of Longford. We stopped there, against our better nature, to go to McDonalds.

Best. Meal. Ever.

Nothing beats a healthy climb up a dangerous mountain like eating McDonalds. Actually, that's not technically true. Getting a cup of tea afterwards beats the McDonalds.

Best. Tea. Ever.

We got on the bus - and it was dark by this stage - and headed off home. There was a film on - The Hurt Locker - so most people just sat and watched it. Some people didn't shut up and kept talking about other films and, as we got into Dublin, the personal lives and problems of other people, saying things quite loudly that shouldn't have been said at all. Honestly, why would anyone announce that they stopped someone committing suicide and then tell the person who it was they saved? I was baffled and seriously wanted to punch some sense into the guy who was talking. Privacy much? At that point I was glad the trip was almost done so I wouldn't have to put up with all his chatting casually about the deeply personal issues other people had.

As we turned the corner to get to the college, my bus home passed by. I swore. I won't deny that fact. It only comes every half hour. It was a quarter past ten. I grumbled as I got off the bus. But, I was then informed that my dad was in the college grounds ready to drive us home. I was sure, then, that there was a God and He was merciful. It didn't take too long to get home on account of the time. I got straight into the shower. I had a cup of tea. I crashed into bed.

Never again... (I tell myself now...)

Oh My God It's Miley Cyrus!

So, yesterday was my second day of Adventureland with Miley Cyrus. It was rather epic. I went to Offaly, where she lives; we spent a large amount of time being children, in and out of her house. Her parents were lovely; her dad (or, daddy if you go by how she refers to them) was very smart and funny, and her mum kept trying to feed me. Her brothers were shocked that I didn't like football, but oddly didn't hold it against me. Once I said I had no interest in it, they left it at that. That's a first. Really, it is. Too many people start asking, things like, "But why? Would you not just watch it?" Eh, no.

We also watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and decided that one of our friends is pretty much like Ferris. Naturally, I texted him to express our opinions. "You. Are. Ferris. Bueller. FACT!" I don't know whether he was more amused or confused.

Aside from having a wee adventure to Tullamore, getting Animal Cookies, White Mice, jellies and hot chocolate, we pretty much just hung out and chatted. Good times were had. We also took a few photos, and recorded the above video. Photography was mainly consisting of us wearing 3D glasses. Let's face facts - 3D glasses are a waste unless they are actually worn, so we might as well take photos with them. I won't be posting them here... because really I'm too lazy. See, it takes a while to get to Offaly, so I travelled a bit yesterday... two 40-45 minutes train journeys, two 15-20 minute LUAS journeys, one 20-25 minute bus journey and four 15-20 minute car journeys. I got home after twelve at night, having left before nine in the morning.

It. Was. Awesome!

However, it has left me quite tired. I think I'll be resting up tonight and writing tomorrow, and hoping I'll have another day of Adventureland next week. Even if it does stop me writing, it's loads of fun! And that's what this summer is all about, for me. Writing is what eats away at the boredom between Adventureland, and what lets me explore the lives of a few people. Fun fun fun!