10 things I hate about... living in dublin

Having been born in dublin, and moving to the countryside just before starting primary school (worst thing that has happened to me to date, having a liberal english mother, coming from dublin, having a dad that's an artist and small rural village that hasn't seen anybody new in 800 years make for an explosive mix, in all the wrong ways)  I have literally spent the last 15 years begging my parent to move back to dublin, and then, when that obviously wasn't going to work, only applying to colleges in dublin (central dublin, to be specific, Trinity and DIT to be even more specific) Last year I finally moved to dublin.

Moving to dublin was all I hoped and dreamed it to be, to be honest. Maybe I'm a snob but I couldn't quite imagine me and my college experience taking place in say, waterford. Or cork. I mean, do they even have burritos in cork? I've never heard anyone from cork ever mention a burrito. I would survive, I'm sure, but how could I be expected to flourish without my weekly tolteca fix? what's even the incentive to go to college at all? 

So, dublin is great. yes, I might be able to afford a penthouse in galway with what I'm paying in rent for a room that makes harry potter's cupboard look roomy, but all that trad would never be worth it. At least if I encounter someone playing the squeezebox in dublin I can quickly run away. There would be nowhere to run.

So yes, dublin is great. It's not THAT great though. Here, without further ado, is my top 10 things I hate about dublin. Live in Athlone? you can feel good about that now 

1. The bus system. I mean, yes, it gets me around. But a THREE year old girl sat on some junkies syringe. This isn't even the first time this has happened. AND they don't give change? what is with that. They blatantly prey on the fact I am far too lazy to walk to busaras to get my 50 cent (or even 1 cent) change. This adds up. I could probably buy a bus by now (extreme exaggeration) or at least a burrito.
2. Buskers on grafton street. I am sure that if you go to grafton street rarely you will not know what I mean. You will think "aren't buskers lovely though!They add atmosphere!" wrong. Buskers aren't lovely. Buskers are the spawn of satan, sent from the fiery bowels of hell to make sure that it is near impossible to get down grafton street at any reasonable pace without requiring a battle axe, or at least really pointy elbows. 
3. THE LUAS LINES.WHY DON'T THEY JOIN UP. WHAT IS THE POINT OF NOT MAKING THEM JOIN UP. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE PLANS AND THOUGHT, OH LOOK, THE DRAWING HAS THESE TWO LINES JOINED TOGETHER, LETS FOLLOW THAT INSTEAD OF JUST STOPPING. THE WHOLE POINT OF GETTING THE LUAS IS SO I DON'T HAVE TO WALK. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME WALK. 
4. The price of a pint. So expensive. The price of alcohol in general. No, I do not want 3 eager bombs for a tenner, it tastes like liquorice and lidl energy drinks. Yes, I will still fall for this trap every time I go out.
5. And on that note..... GOING OUT. I do like going out in dublin. I will admit I am an opium rooms gal, I like the fact that I will never ever hear Rock me Mamma, generally the clubs aren't filled with seedy, middle age men looking to shift young wans, but with these perks come serious disadvantages. They actually need men in high viz jackets in diceys directing traffic because it is so packed. Sometimes, if you don't go early enough, you don't get in. When you do get in, you have to pay lots of money. You can queue for a toilet for up to an hour. You can queue for the bar for what feels like an hour, and only get served because you treat it like cage fighting and then flirt with the bartender. 
6. "have yiz got any change for a hostel?" both you and I know it's not for a hostel, its for more beer, or heroin. Both you and I know that when I shake my head no, I'm lying. I still feel horrible though.
7. Charity collectors. So much aggression. Please, do not follow me down the street shouting at me that it will only take '5 seconds' for our chat. It won't. You want my bank details for a direct debit payment. I have seen weaker mortals fall prey to you before. I will not fall, no matter how nice you pretend to be. Or how much you say the word chat. 
8. Having a rickshaw ride of death because your driver is crazy and you were too drunk to notice. 
9. The fact that tiger is directly on my route into college and I have to go in. Every day. And every day, I find some small, inexpensive thing that I have to have. Bunting. Cute drinking containers. Phone chargers. They know exactly what I want, and they stock it when I want it. It's a sickness. I spend so much money there I should get shares in the company.
10. ATMS that give fifties only. You probably know which one I'm taking about. It's near topshop. It fools me, everytime. Theres always a queue. I don't think I've ever successfully taken money out.

There. There you have it. My top 10 annoying things about dublin, that I hate. Yes, I may be a very angry person, but at least it isn't bubbling inside of me anymore. If you live in dublin, you probably know what I mean. If you don't, you probably feel better about not living in dublin (maybe). I can't judge. Also, on a soppy note, thank you all for reading my stuff. It's made me so happy to see people liking it. Specially ruairi finnegan, who always believed in me (except when I told him I was really good at directions) and clionadh flynn, who will probably not expect me to remember her mention, but here I am doing it. You go girl.

Stay gold, people who read this far. No gold for the rest of you.

Anxiety- Why I never walk into lectures late

In all honesty, I don't really know why I am writing about this, now. It's the day after my spontaneous blog making and I intended to write, if I was even going to write about anything at all, something funny and light and not serious at all. 

And yet, here I am not doing that. But I'm going to go with it anyway. 

I suffer from anxiety. Anxiety is something that makes you feel alone. I feel like everyone else gets on with things just fine, and I am carrying 5 angry snakes around with me in my stomach. This is something that is not true. Every time I tell people about my anxiety, they are kind and understanding and often they suffer from anxiety too. It's kind of a shitty paradox. I get anxious about being anxious about being anxious about telling people.

Anxiety makes me do the stupidest things. For example, I am unable to ask people for help and just try work it out myself. Today, in the library I spent so long trying to work out how to print directly from my laptop I thought I was going to throw it out the window. Eventually I realised the reason I wasn't asking the girl at the help desk was because I was anxious. She fixed it in about 30 seconds. 

When people get my name wrong I am totally ok with them calling me by the wrong name. Usually it's fine. Not so fine when it's your neighbour and they then ask you why you haven't corrected them about the fact they've been calling you ciara for 3 years. Eh, actually the thought of correcting you physically wouldn't form in my brain, that's how much I didn't want to do it. 

Anxiety has stopped me from doing loads of things. It has made going into school or college some days feel like climbing everest. Along with anxiety, I am also an extreme perfectionist, and this means I wouldn't do things if I don't know that I will be perfect at it. Everything I have achieved means nothing, because I have achieved it. 

These things are making my life not as good as it could be. At the end of the day, there is some really really good things in it. I've only been sick on a public bus once (touch wood- it was particularly gruesome though), I have experienced chipotle, in-n-out and panda express, I have all my limbs, I go to college right beside a tiger, my boyfriend is great, I have made the sort of friends you probably only get once every thousand lifetimes and that is to name a few (very important) ones. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you have anxiety you are not alone. Everyone on this planet has been anxious it at some point, probably a lot of points (who likes walking home down an alley on a dark night) and it is nothing to be ashamed of, or hide. Talk to people- particularly if it's affecting you at work or in college. It's not a weakness. For me, getting on a bus by myself takes the same amount of willpower for others to sing in front of 50 people. This is getting really youth- groupy, motivational but just know that it's ok and there is so much you can do to help/deal with it. 

On a lighter note, for all you people who think tolteca is the chipotle of dublin- it does not compare. there is only one chipotle. the rest are cheap knockoffs. I am prepared to fight to the death for my beliefs concerning this

Late night Ramblings // an introduction

I am a very passionate person, if you are being nice. A Leslie Knope, but way less productive (way less, like a productive day for me is not wearing sweatpants) I tend to steamroll. Yeah, I like to think that I accept everyones point of view, but who am I kidding. In reality, I accept my point of view, like everyone else. Usually, the people who have to deal with my rants are my mother, my boyfriend and my friends. 

BUT HEY. I am going to become a modern person and have my own little corner of the internet where I can stand on my soap box and SHOUT MY OPINION to all that care to read. Everyone else is doing it, why can't I. And yes, it is nearly midnight on a sunday night, the night before I start college so there is a good chance this is just a weird, before sleep idea that I have had and I can't really know will anything come from it. 

Anyway, if nothing does, fuck it. At least it'll be less time I spend watching netflix.

Even if nobody reads it.

Which I really hope they do. 


(ok so also I understand that my blog looks super shitty, but I will fix that. Also, please don't get any ideas about the content of this blog. Like it's not going to be me trying to force people to think what I think and agree on every social issue that pops up on Facebook. It might just be me ranting about how much I love cheetos or the weird person who took their shoes of that one time in the cinema. Or not even a rant at all. Who Knows. I don't, not really)