Sunday, March 7, 2010

An stad deirneach

By Christ, it's been a long time. I can almost smell the must.

There's a reason I've left this lie idle. It's not as if there's a lot I want to impart, explain and outpour. It's just that there's no way I possibly can without causing ructions.

Believe me, there's a lot I want to say. There's a lot I should have said and there's a lot that I may say. But what's done now is done, and there's no changing the past. The future looks bright, but dimmed slightly because I turned off the lights a long time ago.

I needed to do what I did. It's not about my own happiness, it's about that of others. That's what I was always led to believe.

So why don't I take any satisfaction from it? No point in asking now. Just deal with it.

I'm probably going to delete this whole sordid experiment soon enough. I'm posting far too infrequently for it to remain a worthwhile exercise and there are thousands of millions of others who have far more interesting things to tell you than I. This has been nothing but a forum for my own self-involved rantings and it needs to die a death. Reflections are for mirrors (god, what a cheesy line.)


Sunday, December 20, 2009

It's all just part of the Machine

In completely irrelevant news, Rage Against The Machine have beaten X-Factor finalist #1,237 to the Christmas #1 spot (OK, I admit, I know his name. It's Joe McIlderry. I blame my sister and the endless deluge of Facebook updates posted by reality junkies. Happy?)

Now I must wash away some of the cynicism of my first paragraph. I wanted to see RATM win this battle that seemed to occupy more column inches than the death of Western society. Why? I don't particularly like The X-Factor. It's poorly thought out TV. It's a karaoke competition and people fucking love it. More than that, however - I'm pissed off that I didn't think up of the idea myself. It seemed so obvious! Of course, I have the money and the record label to make it work. I just hadn't told anyone about it for fear of seeming smug.

Not only that, but the entire concept of the "race for the Christmas #1" was created by Simon Cowell. A publicity machine to ensure the inevitable victory of his prize-winning pop tartlet. How on Earth was any other group ever hoping to oust the nation's newly-bought puppy dog? Well, Rage did. And all they had to do was tell Chris Moyles to fuck off.

Why Rage? Well, yon chap who set up the Facebook campaign (something else to which I am particularly loathe, but we'll get onto that some other day) saw merit in their refrain "fuck you, I won't do what you tell me."

But the punchline? Both acts are signed to Sony. Between RATM and Joe, they sold 950,000 singles. Sony wins. Big business wins. Your pointless little rebellion has come back to bite you in the arse, boys. Savour your little victory, because you've lost the war.

Upon reading this back to myself, it reads very much like something an X-Factor fangirl would have written. Maybe I'm just hiding something..

And I ate it, too

Wallowing in self-pity is liking eating too much cake. You just sit there, getting fatter, and no-one likes you because you took all the cake.

That sounded better in my head.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Allow me to indulge myself...

...with a segment of self-analysis. It's been quite some time since my last blog entry, I'm aware. Given that the 21st anniversary of my birth is fast approaching (news of my conception was allegedly greeted with my father shaking the pregnancy test and asking my mother if she was certain), I feel it necessary to see where I am in life at present. Why in blog form?

Because I'm a self-indulgent bastard, that's why.

Come on this journey with me, if you will;

- My name is Eric Richard William Fitzgerald, I'm a 20 year old Caucasian male and I have a family of two parents and one sister.

- My fears include failure, rejection and the impending zombie apocalypse.

- I am allergic to penicillin, tetracycline and cat hair. This makes prescribing antibiotics for any illness to which I may succumb quite difficult, I've been told (not the cat hair).

- My heart is in a thousand and one different fragments, not due to any great degree of heartbreak, but rather because I can't help but emotionally invest in people. Some people hold a piece of my heart and they have no idea who they are.

- I am a fourth year Journalism with a Language student but I have no idea if I'm every going to end up as a journalist.

- I both revel and loathe in being the youngest in my family.

- The concept of the family unit is highly important to me. If, for whatever reason, my own one ever became fragmented for a negative reason, I'd be unable to cope.

- Sometimes I feel that I am hamstrung by manners and courtesy. Other times I feel that I do not exhibit these qualities enough.

- I have an addictive personality. Witness my interest in rugby, soccer, computer games, cult television and certain bands. Thankfully this has not manifested itself as regards drugs or alcohol - yet.

- I simultaneously love and hate my job. There are some days where I feel so demoralised that I want to quit on the spot. But, then again, everyone feels like that.

- I love speaking in a different language.

- There is one point in my life that I feel, had I acted differently, my life would be much transformed today - in a good way. That feeling is starting to rise again in relation to something different.

- I haven't cried properly since I was 12.

Should I feel the need for any more self-analysis, this will be the space to watch. Thanks for your time.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

The chaff

While I am aware that my sister was wed recently, I don't feel like writing a blog entry about it. Quite frankly, the followers of my blog don't know my family or my community well enough to have any emotional investment or sufficient knowledge of the references I will, well, reference for it to make the process worthwhile.

Let me just say, simply, that the whole day was perfect. Quite literally. Besides, I've ráiméised enough to all of you about it already.

Here's fate kicking you in the stones; way back when, I applied for a place in the Oifig na Gaeilge Scéim Cónaithe (the Irish language house). I wasn't accepted. Last week, I found a spot in Ranelagh, a grand little studio apartment that suits my limited needs just fine.

Two days spent in Dublin to bring the sordid process to an end. Following my return to Clonmel, I received a call on lunchtime. It was Siobhán from the Oifig telling me that someone had pulled out of the Scéim and she was offering me a place.

Having paid my deposit on the flat in Ranelagh, I couldn't take it. FML.

Word to the wise; don't drink brandy.

Maybe I'll post more regularly. Maybe I won't.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Help, I'm in a nutshell

Those of you who know me will be aware that I spent the large part of five months in Germany, beginning my stay there in March and bringing it to its inevitable conclusion towards the end of July. Those of you who don't know me won't give a fuck, and I assume that it will stay that way.

In what can be described only as the most amiable of moves, I settled into my new accommodation in Germany - primarily after reaching the summit of the vast mountain of bureaucratic bullshit which towered before me. Armed with Sherpas, a trusty pick axe and a can-do attitude, no form was too long, no opening hours too inconvenient, no queue too snaking to crush my spirit. OK, so I lie. I whined and moaned like a little bitch, but these things have a way of sorting themselves out.

Room 112 of Emil-Figge-Strasse 37 was a modest lodging. Sparsely furnished, decent kitchen, agreeable housemates (of whom I regrettably saw all too little) - all that was lacking was a television. Well, I was hardly going to bring my Playstation 3 all the way there and not make use of it, was I? Silly reader! (cue cries of "NERD!" and my attractiveness sliding down an ever-steepening slope)

Dortmund is a city that does not give off a good first impression. Having suffered its fair share of air raids during World War II, the city is mostly gray and industrial. It reeks of unemployment (the Ruhr area has one of the highest average unemployment percentages in all of the Bundesrepublik) and has little to offer tourists besides churches (it's dwarfed in that respect by neighbouring Cologne) and former Nazi prisons. The nightlife was agreeable, however, even if I did fall asleep on the train twice and once one discovered the bestest little kebab shop in the Ruhrgebiet, the city seemed a little bit brighter.

Neighbouring cities such as Cologne and Dusseldorf were a treat to visit, made all the easier by the fact that students in Nordrhein-Westphalia are afforded a ticket which allows them free use of public transport across the entire fucking Bundesland. Awesome. The German modes of public transport are punctual (mostly), clean (largely) and frequent (well, depending on the time of day.) It's incredibly easy to get around a country so large.

But what of the campus, I don't hear you ask? Yeah, exactly. Academic pursuits will only serve to bore, so it's best to leave them to a dark corner.

So many people, so little cyberspace. Czechs in trollies, French smoking fagsCheck Spelling, a Spanish girl named Macarena (I kid thee not), festival fun times with English, Americans and Portuguese - the list is endless. The one person worth elaborating upon is my travelling companion, Aisling. We left acquaintances and returned firm friends. Long may it so continue.

The best stories I've saved for personal contact. This is but the tip of the iceberg of my German excursion.

Perhaps I'll impart more, once the mood takes me.

Do not adjust your television set

We are back on the air.

Following a month of geographical upheaval, familial expansion and a crippling bout of blog envy, I feel like blogging again.

There's much to discuss and oh-so-much time to do it in.

So, what are we waiting for? Let's get cracking!

It's all in glorious Technicolour.