Moments of Transition (Year)

February

Today's the first, and this morning I was woken by a nightmare in which Joseph Goebbels was a teacher at my school. It was terrifying. He kept putting me in detention because I have brown hair and brown eyes and chose to learn French instead of Spanish. I can't remember what happened in those detentions, but it wasn't nice. None of the other teachers changed their behaviour, but they treated the methods of Mr. Goebbels as perfectly normal. And there were horrible rumours going around about Mr. Goebbels too, but you could never be sure if they were true or not, because everyone was afraid. When I woke up this morning I was terrified that I'd go into school thinking everything was normal until I had Mr. Goebbels first thing, so I said to myself 'OK Eleanor, let's sort out if Goebbels actually teaches you or not.' I promptly fell asleep and was woken again by my mother.

What does it mean when you dream of a Nazi?

********

September

I'm about to open an envelope. This envelope contains my Junior Certificate results. Everyone else has crowded around each other outside, it's a lovely day, but I ran off behind a wall. This is private, it's mine. For now, at least.

I try to take care as much as I can with the seal. I thought it would be an A4 sheet, not something this small. But where did I get that idea?

And the very first result listed -

English. D.

Ah, shit.

I knew on the day that I wasn't going to get a great result. I completely lost my head, but it's a matter of pride still. It's the first D I've ever gotten for English, because even with poetry, which I'm shit at, I can usually articulate something. I've still passed, but...

I've never really liked 'school English', whatever that is, but I only realised then how much I had let it become a label. Eleanor's Good At English. Which means she's one of the Creative Ones, which must mean she's bad at Maths, because that's how it works, isn't it? If you're creative and good at art/writing, it means you have to be bad at maths or business or science. But I'm not good at English in school. The only thing I can really do is the drama bit, because that's the bit that makes the most sense to me. But that doesn't mean I'm hopeless. Most of the content on my CV is stuff I've written.

Just because I didn't get the mark I had hoped for, but the mark I knew I would get when I finished Paper One, doesn't mean I'm suddenly incompetent. I'm still good at this. I am a semi-competent writer! I got that award, didn't I? That was just one day. Jesus Eleanor, calm down. You've still got ten other results! You haven't looked at them yet!

I scan down the page. There aren't any other Ds. I've got two As, three Cs, and the rest are Bs, including French and History, which I was really worried about. Excellent! Time to join the others and squeal a bit. Lovely.

Although it would be cool to get a C or something for the Leaving. Just to satisfy my own useless pride. And for the points, of course.

********

October

God, I'd forgotten how much swearing was in this play.

My Adult For The Evening, my cousin Eimear, is fidgeting in her seat beside me. She's twenty four, a primary school teacher, and she's my Cool Older Cousin, so I thought she'd be best to bring along to this night-time event in a pub.

But then I remember how I've always been her Baby Cousin Eleanor. And that I'm still only fifteen. And these people in the room, a lot of whom I seem to know quite well, are all older than me, and drinking, and some of them are shifting the face of each other on the projector. And my mother and her mother are waiting for us back home, and they'll want to know everything. And the dancing girl sitting with her friends at the front, the drunk one in the play, is getting a bit louder and a bit louder all the time. And apparently she's my friend.

And I come to appreciate a little bit more how trusting my mother and father must be.

Seems I'd also forgotten how much sex is discussed, and all that business with the condoms and everything.

The drive home is going to be very awkward.

********

March

I have known John Kennedy for one year and two months.

It is a very strange moment when, at Fishamble's Young People's Tiny Plays For Ireland reading, I am introduced to him for the first time. We're both from Kilkenny!

'Actually we do sort of know each other already...'

'Oh really? How?'

And, for some reason, we're standing there nodding and grinning inanely at each other. And I don't know why I'm not saying anything like 'Well, John here wrote a play called Shifting for the Devious Theatre Company back in Kilkenny, and it was completely sold out over it's six night run and received rave reviews, because it really was a brilliant play you know, and it was directed by that man over there in the blue hoodie, John Morton, beside the lady with the long brown wavy hair, no, below that row, and I was assistant director. And that's how we know each other.' That covers it. But we're not saying anything. It's very strange. Why aren't we telling him?

But eventually we say, at the same time, 'We worked on a play together...' Which is also the truth. And it'll do for today, because, and it seems strange, but we don't need Shifting today.

And the well-meaning person who introduced us but whose identity I have forgotten says 'Oh!' and escapes, leaving us to stand nodding and grinning inanely at each other.

********

December

It's the last day of school before the Christmas holidays. Everyone's exchanging cards, and all of a sudden she hands me a wrapped present.

I don't have anything to give her. Just a Christmas card with some song lyrics paraphrased inside, and what good is that if I've done it wrong and she can't understand it? And then she goes and gives me beautiful chocolates.

And they're Lindt chocolates. Everyone loves Lindt chocolates. I'm not the only one who's received them of course, but I can't remember the last time I got a Christmas present from someone that wasn't a relative.

A friend?

********

March

Today is World Book Day, and so a group of us have been entertaining some children in one of the local bookshops. We've dressed up as characters from Where's Wally for the occasion, and it's been loads of fun. Now we're walking down town to get lunch in our madcap gear. (Our madcap gear consists of red/white striped tops, blue jeans, hearts on our faces, and assorted accessories.)

I'm in a group of five and I'm doing my usual conversation thing where I stay on the edge and dodge the kerb and stone benches and listen to the others talk, and one of the girls is fiddling with her super-cute pigtails self-consciously. This girl is one of the kindest, most sincere girls I know, and I don't like seeing her uncomfortable with herself. So I try to tell her to relax.

In my classic, Eleanor Roscuro empathetic fashion.

It doesn't really work, because I haven't mastered empathy and all that stuff, so it's just me telling her that she's fine and she doesn't have to care about what other people think, all that easier said than done stuff, until eventually, a little voice in my head says 'You know what you should try? Paraphrasing that Henry Ford quote that Bill Cullen likes. That'll work!'

'If you think you're ugly or not ugly, you're right.'

'Really? You think that?'

And, oblivious to her body language or the tone in her voice, I do what I always do: concentrate on the words and plough right through.

'Yeah. I do think that.'

Suddenly, we all draw to a stop. There are boys ahead. They've just come out of the nearest boy's school. We go to a girl's school, so we don't know them... We take a breath, brace ourselves, and then carry on, our eyes raking each uniform for a familiar face. There's got to be about fifty, and I don't know any of them. Dammit.

She starts fiddling with her pigtails again, worse than ever, and I tell her to leave it, but she doesn't, and we've stopped talking. This is ridiculous! It's not the Charge of the Light Brigade for God's sake! Yet their attitude is infectious, and I can't help but expect... something.

Eventually our paths meet.

This is what I was wearing that day -

Note - awesome mask. Happy (unaware of camera) face.

I love this mask, and I'm enjoying walking around the street in it. Until it was assumed by a subset of the boys in uniform that since I am wearing a mask, I must be extremely unattractive. Hideous, even.

It could have been so much worse. I know that. But I wasn't expecting it all the same. And it doesn't make me feel good.  I don't know if I was supposed to hear, but it was quite loud, and it doesn't make me feel good. But when I'm older, maybe this will be a part of life. I don't want it to be, but that's not up to me, is it?

And she's still worrying about her pigtails, and she was passed by unscathed, and the one who didn't care was marked down, how's that for irony? And the moment to say something back has passed. And then it dawns on me that I may have called her ugly, in a backwards way. And I feel awful, because I've hurt the feelings of the nicest girl in the year. And I feel awful, because some strangers have hurt my feelings.

And when I tell them half an hour later what they said, when I get sick of the bloody pigtails, no one says anything. We change the subject. When we're older, in college maybe, and it gets worse, we probably won't know how to handle it.

********

February

I'm on a night out!

Well, technically. It could be said. I'm in Kilkenny, at night, and I'm with adults, but nice ones who invited me here, and there is alcohol present, but not in my hand or my gut.

Yeah, I'm on a night out.

I'm upstairs in the Watergate Theatre, at the launch of the new Devious Theatre production. They're going to remake Night of the Living Dead in July. I'd been aware of it since work experience in November, but it only registered tonight. The night is starting to draw to a close. I'm standing beside my older-super-cool friend Alex at the bar. John's leaning over the other side to us, like we're smugglers in one of those taverns three hundred years ago where you'd be sure to find all the criminals singing drinking songs, plotting, and drinking. But instead of planning our next robbery, John is telling us about getting into drama courses, something that seems just as foolhardy and dangerous. Well, it's all for Alex's benefit, she's the one applying this year. I just arrived in the middle of the conversation and quietly slotted myself in. We're both nodding solemnly as John gestures and points his fingers on the bar for emphasis.

The Mid-Term Ball is on Monday. I've no real interest in going - I've had my fill of monster discos since the Junior Cert Results. I've having a great night here. Everyone is so nice. I know most of them already, which is good, and I've even mentioned Gormenghast, and people have listened! And my pretty dress has been admired. That's always good. And there's buns and cake, and they have nice orange juice. And I was invited  and everything!

Apparently they don't look at your Leaving Cert marks in the colleges, not really. Just at what you show them at auditions. Wow.

There's a little voice in the back of my head saying 'It'd be nice to get the points anyway...' and I have a small memory of staring at a page behind a wall. Oh, the Junior Cert English thing. I'd kind of forgotten about that. It isn't such a stab to my pride as it felt like at the time. Hmm. That's good.


********

January

Today is a great day.

I'm in McDonalds on Grafton Street, finishing up my meal with my friends. We've come up to Dublin with the rest of the year to Trinity College. My older-super-cool friend Helena is studying Business and French there, and she was able to point me in the direction of the Drama and Theatre Studies talk that had started as we got off the bus, so after sneaking away from the group (!!!), I made it for the last five minutes. Then I met another older-super-cool friend Ruth who was at the talk and we had a lovely chat. Then I was able to discreetly insert myself into the group, go around the different stands, and then we went for lunch. Now we've got back onto Grafton Street and I'm turning right to go back to Trinity, but the others go left.

'Hey, where are you going?'

'Shopping. We've seen everything there.'

'Oh, okay. I'm going back to Trinity, I'll meet you later so - '

I wasn't expecting them to look that horrified or gasp that loudly. Or to chorus:

'You can't go back there on your own!'

I start to feel a little irritated. Up until last September all I did at school was go around on my own! I'm not desperate for human contact, but I really like their company, and I'm fine going around Trinity on my own. It's fun, and I'm meeting so many people I know, and I could look at the things I find interesting while they do their shopping. It's just thirty seconds up the street. I don't see what's wrong.

'No, really, I'm fine - '

'No, you can't go back there on your own... You can come with us if you like!'

'But... I don't know when I'll get there again, and I've been to Grafton Street before, and I'll be seeing it again at some stage. It's just up the street... I can look after myself!'

I know I shouldn't have said that as soon as it's out of my mouth. I've done it again. I don't know whether to turn and leave, or listen to what they've got to say next. Whilst I'm deciding, one of the group steps forward, not one I'm particularly friendly with. She sighs.

'Lads, it's alright, I'll go back with her...'

NO!

Because I don't want to be 'her', someone that has to be babied and minded, someone that's always getting in the way of everyone's fun! And I'm not, and I wouldn't be, if only they would let me go! But what am I supposed to say? I don't know what to say. I'm stuck now. The others don't look happy about the prospect either, and we all say:

'No, you don't have to, it's fine!'

But she's coming with me now. The other girls look as downcast as I feel. 'Well, if you're sure... We'll see you later so.' And they turn and walk off. We walk silently back to Trinity.

I feel bad about giving her the slip when we get there, but I do it anyway.

********

April

'Anna, why don't we ever do anything Irish?'

We've just filled out our evaluation forms about the last Kilkenny Youth Theatre year. This was something that had occurred to me when I was remarking on how I enjoyed the fact that with Gormenghast, we weren't confused by British slang or place names that we knew nothing about. Instead, we referenced places like the Hall of the Bright Carvings, or the Tower of Flints. Most of the youth theatre plays we read are by British playwrights.

'You mean a play?'

She goes on to explain that:

1. She really would like to do something Irish, but:
2. There are very few Irish plays written for a teenage production.
3. Those that do exist either don't have an ensemble cast or a cast large enough to accommodate sixteen-ish people, or are not very good. Or both.

Which is a shame, because I had been hoping for some to read, but I know Anna spent most of her career working with children and teenagers in theatre, and would know best out of all the people I could ask. I've been reading some of the British ones in the school library whenever there are no seats for me in the canteen, and there are some I love, and some I hate. But I'm Irish. I want to see something Irish.

It just makes me more determined. (Determined to do what? says the stupid voice.)

********

May

It's the last day of Transition Year. It's glorious outside, so we're sitting outside in the grass. We're making daisy chains, and writing on each other, and eating, and chatting lazily.

This is the day I have been waiting for all winter, all spring. It's brilliant. It's heaven.

********

November

I've come to a sudden stop outside the Butler Gallery. There are tourists, couples walking around the park. One passes me, and we smile. The weather's beautiful for a November morning, warm, with a soft breeze, the sort of day I like. And you wouldn't expect to find these many people in the park today, but they're here.

Today is the first day of my work experience with the Watergate Theatre and everyone's been so nice and I've got leaflets of a ballet, Scherezade, to drop into local businesses around Kilkenny and I've been doing that and last week I did work experience with Devious Theatre which was wonderful and I'm so lucky to have gotten what I wanted.

Today is my sixteenth birthday and the weather is beautiful and I'm not in school I'm on my work experience and I know that this year, this year is going to be brilliant.

********

Apostrophe Mix - March 2012

Apostrophe Mix - March 2012 from EleanorRoscuro on 8tracks.

• The Coronas - San Diego Song 
• Horslips - Dearg Doom
• Imelda May - Mayhem
• Royseven - Dance
• Two Door Cinema Club - I Can Talk
• Jape - I Was A Man
• Fight Like Apes - Tie Me Up With Jackets
• Ash - Burn Baby Burn

Irish music. What on earth is it really? I mean, we have the diddly-eye that everyone else associates with us, then we have The Undertones, Thin Lizzy and Boomtown Rats, then Luke Kelly and the Dubliners, then Gavin Friday and Sinead O'Connor, then the Cranberries, then Westlife and Boyzone, then The Coronas and Royseven, then Republic of Loose, then Lisa Hannigan and Cathy Davey, then Imelda May, then Fight Like Apes, then Two Door Cinema Club, then James Vincent McMorrow, and then back to the Saw Doctors? And that's what we love (well, what I love anyway) about our music - it can be anything. Whether it's about emigration (IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT BLOODY EMIGRATION), war (IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT THE BLOODY TROUBLES), alcohol (IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT BLOODY DRINKING), you know, those 'Irish' things, or about anything else, it always manages to surprise. 

And we can never forget the diddly-eye either. They have the best choruses (Whiskey In The Jar - "Musha ring droma do droma da/Whack fol the daddy-o/Whack fol the daddy-o/There's whiskey in the jar"), everyone knows them, and they're the perfect thing to depress or excite everyone at a gathering. 

I take this from Stuff Irish People Love by Colin Murphy & Donal O'Dea - 

17 - Shouting 'Yeeeeeooow' in the middle of a traditional Irish tune.

 Put a handful of Irish musicians together, particularly in a pub, and as sure as eggs is eggs, as the fiddles and whistles and bodhrans begin to whip up a frenzy of a rhythm, one of the musicians or someone in the audience will be compelled by a rising fire in his or her breast to proclaim loudly 'Yeeeeeoooow!'
Some believe this to be the musical equivalent of an orgasm, others that it is an expression of joy that only Irish music has the ability to evoke. It is even possible, some think, that is is an expression of a deeply buried primordial scream which is given release by the thundering pace and rhythm of the music, such as sa caveman might yell having just downed a wild pig with a stone axe.
Whatever the reason, there are endless variations on the word itself, the most popular being 'Yeehaaayeboyye', 'Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehoo' or 'Yeeupdereyefineting'

There ye are so.

I've put some more contemporary Irish music in this mix, (with the exception of Horslips, but it's just a song that everyone knows), and I hope you like it. I should talk about Irish music here more often!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

Eleanor Roscuro

Keeping the Apostrophe

So will this blog last if SOPA gets through?

Or ACTA?

Tomorrow at midday, Ireland and the UK will be signing a bill called ACTA in Tokyo. It's basically like SOPA, but even worse. Like everyone else on the internet, especially those my age, I'm freaking out. I usually download all my music from iTunes (yes, with money and everything) but, regarding here, I'm not really sure what is copyright and what isn't. What if I've accidentally done something on Apostrophe and I didn't know? And then all of a sudden, it's gone? The whole blog?

That would be really annoying.

I've signed all the petitions! At the bottom of this blog, it says 'Copyright 2009 - 2012 Eleanor Roscuro (unless otherwise stated). All rights reserved.' Maybe that's illegal! I have no idea! OK, so maybe as a person on the internet, I should be more savvy about these things, but it was always so hard to believe I was doing anything wrong. I'm so small. And I've been running this blog for more than two years.

I don't know. And this will affect the rest of the European Union too, it's their bill.

Eeek.

Eleanor Roscuro

P.S. I'M FREAKING OUT YOU GUYS

Let's Talk About Our Feelings

Let's have a chat over a nice cup of tea. Well, you can have coffee if you want. I've never liked coffee, but I'll be having some of that rainbow sugar if you don't mind. With my tea. I take milk.

Hi there.

Sorry about my absence. I feel like we never chat anymore, you and me. We should do that now! OK, I'll start. This is my blog after all.

1. So a few days ago at rehearsals, we were having a short break and I was playing with one of the juggling balls and trying to keep it up with my hands and moving around and eventually I found myself standing in the middle of the room and facing the back door and outside John and Ross were talking and on my left Alan and Geoff were talking about playing the guitar and someone was rattling around with mugs in the kitchen and behind me Angela was doing something and on my left down the ramp Jess was playing the guitar and singing with Connie and I was just standing there and staring at the ball, tapping it with the palms of my hands and humming the song DFTBA by Hank Green in my head and under my breath, and while I was standing there I realised how utterly amazing my brain was to take all of that in and think about all of those people at the same time and what they were doing and why and reprimanding myself at the same time because it was really none of my business what they were doing, and also thinking about things I needed to get in Educational Supplies for school and then thinking about school on Monday and if I needed to do any homework and thinking about
what I was going to eat later and also thinking about the ball I was trying to keep up with my hands and how amazing my brain was for being able to think all of those things at the same time and trying to decide if my brain was simply a brilliant organ or if I was too scatterbrained and flighty to concentrate on one thing at a time. And then I dropped the ball.

2. WAIT A SECOND!!! I haven't told you anything about any rehearsals yet! Um... Can you wait, just for a few days? Before I tell you, I'd like to have something to tell you. Know what I mean? Oh, never mind.

3. This year, both Barack Obama and the Queen of England will be visiting Ireland, within fourteen hours of each other! That's nice of them. Apparently Obama's oldest living relative lives somewhere near where I live, so he might pop over. Princess Margaret, the Queen's sister, once visited the town where my mother grew up when she was a little girl, and I still have one of the dresses Lady de Vesci used to wear. It's gorgeous. Anyway, the visits will be great for the economy. That's good.

4. Bo Burnham will be coming to Kilkenny in June, as part of the Cat Laughs festival. I'm not really a big fan, but I'm glad people on YouTube and the Internet are being seen by IRL people as real entertainers, not just teenage crushes. Not that I'll be able to go, the Cat Laughs is strictly over eighteens. Still, it brings €8 million into Kilkenny!



5. I read an amazing book recently, called The Queen Must Die by K.A.S. Quinn. I think I'll write y'all a review! But not in this post. You might have noticed the new Reading List over at the left there. Thing is, I keep buying books, but I never have the time for reading them anymore. So I've decided to be very strict with  myself and I am not allowed to buy anymore books (sob) until all the books in this list have been read. Every single one of them. I've just finished To Miss With Love by Katharine Birbalsingh, which is a MUST if you go to, or have ever gone to, secondary school. No matter where you live. Go read it.

Goodbye...

Oh, and thank you all for your kind, supreme patience.

Eleanor Roscuro...

WTF - General Election 2012 And The End Of The World

I think I might be more terrified than any other time in my life. (Hello, good evening, how are you all doing?)

Apart from the time I saw a man almost drowning in Tramore. That was scary.

And when I read Tyranny by Leslie Fairfield. That's the scariest book I've ever read.

But this isn't a book. This is real life. This will be an extremely long post. Brace yourselves.

Remember back at the end of November, during Alternative Blogging Week, I told you about the EU and IMF's loan of €85 billion to Ireland? And how no one knew what was going to happen? WELL...

At the start of the recession, in 2008, the Taoiseach (Prime Minister, say 'Tee-Shock') Bertie Ahern:

Yeah, he decided to retire and so, the Tànaiste (successor), Brian Cowen:

He became Taoiseach. And of course, you already know from my fully comprehensive guide that the banks were poor, then the government under Mr. Cowen guaranteed the banks... After all of this, and more scandals, the hate for Mr. Cowen was so widespread and unanimous throughout the country that in an attempt to minimize his association with Fianna Fail, his party, he stepped down as party leader. Mr. Cowen is not Taoiseach anymore. In fact, for the past month, we haven't had a Taoiseach. We're having a General Election. Probably should have mentioned that. Sorry.

Polling day is 25th February, in three days and a bit (and before you start getting any ideas, I'm under eighteen, so I don't have a vote) and today, the first canvasser came to our house. (Honestly, it's not like I live in the back of beyond.) He belonged to the political party Fine Gael.

A quick note on Fine Gael - Fine Gael literally means 'Tribe of the Irish'. Was second-largest political party in Ireland, after Fianna Fail (Bertie Ahern and Brian Cowen) and is led by Enda Kenny:

Since the election started, he has been a contender. Really, he's grown quite popular with people, because they don't want to vote for Fianna Fail, since it was their (coalition) governments that led Ireland before and during the recession. Fine Gael say the government is full of corruption at the moment (true, unfortunately) and  that they're going to make everything better.

But, in my opinion, even if they try, they won't be able to give everyone jobs and make the country prosperous again.

Are you still here? If you are, thank you. Keep reading, I'm not done yet.

When Iceland and Greece went into bankruptcy, they quickly got rid of their corrupt governments and banks, but Fianna Fail still remained in power up until the end of January. There have been no serious protests of any kind. It's actually quite strange, because Irish history is, in a nutshell, seven hundred years of uprisings and rebellions against our English oppressors, in which many heroes have died in vain. Nobody seems to want to do that any more! People are angry about what's happened to them, their standards of living have definitely dropped, and our young people, our assets are emigrating in search of work in Australia or America, and they have so many problems that they've lost faith in our government, in these political parties. But nobody wants to protest or be martyred for the good of Ireland! What on earth has happened?

A few weeks ago, I went to see The Way Back. I saw the Russian gulags in Siberia, and the spread of communism (and yes, we have an Irish Communists Party) in the twentieth century, and as I walked out of the cinema, I was struck with the terrible thought of how lucky I am that, because of blind, blind chance, that doesn't happen in Ireland. And then I thought of Egypt, because that was in the newspapers, and I thought to myself, 'What am I doing to make sure that doesn't happen to Ireland?' And all I came up with was a big, fat NOTHING.

And I know you're thinking, 'Eleanor, why would you think that would happen in Ireland?' I'm getting to that. Hang on a second please.

It was only a blind chance that I was born white, female and Irish, in 1995. I believe it was only a blind chance that Ireland is not a dictatorship, and Egypt was. Yes, I'm aware that there are number of factors that have led to Ireland's democracy, and Egypt having a dictator, but you know what I mean. I said earlier that there have been no serious protests against Fianna Fail and the banks. Yet. It may take years, or six months, but something will crack. And some young, handsome graduate is going to protest about something, students fees maybe, and get himself hurt. And he will die. And that'll be the START.

Think Egypt, Libya. The fighting and rioting in Ireland will be on international news, as the death tolls rise. Maybe you'll see videos on Facebook or YouTube of protesters being shot in the middle of Grafton Street. Maybe I'll be in one of those videos. And then, eventually, America will step in, as it does, and bring in the big guns. And those guns will be really, really, really big. And this just won't be happening in Ireland, oh no. This will be happening all over the world. Total devastation. And then the superpowers, like America, will move in with their terribly big guns and they'll think they're trying to help. But they won't. And then, the people in those superpowers will start to get mad, and the superpowers and the terribly big guns will move out and try to sort out things at home, but it won't work. Third World War. And you'll have countries like Ireland and Libya destroyed, and the superpowers imploding, and the world will end. In, you've guessed it, 2012.

You may not believe me, and that's fine. You may like to telephone the HSE and recommend me for counselling. I would prefer if you didn't do that. But yes, I do believe this will happen. And it terrifies me. But imagine how terrified I'll be when I have to barricade my doors during a siege, wondering when I'll next get to eat. I'm not saying this is all certain. The only thing I know that's certain is that Ireland's next Taoiseach will be white and male.

Again.

And now, to ask myself the same question that I asked myself after seeing The Way Back:

What am I doing to make sure that Ireland survives all of this, to prevent the end of the world?

Nothing.

And it really, really depresses me.

But anyway.

You can just take all of this with a pinch of salt, if you want.

Eleanor Roscuro

Apostrophe - Where Social Warfare Meets Social Media

So next week, I'll be going along to see a play in Kilkenny. It's called Scratcher, by The Devious Theatre Company. It looks like this:

Don't worry, they don't look that menacing in real life. Although...

But anyway.

According to Devious, 'Scratcher is a dark, satirical comedy set in a social welfare office on a gloomy Tuesday morning as 6 unemployed people slowly begin to transform into a revolutionary outfit bent on holding the country hostage. Signing on has never been so fun. This is social warfare.'  That sounds fun! It's written and directed by John Morton, and starring Alan Butler, Annette O'Shea, John Morton, Ross Costigan, David Thompson, Ken McGuire, and Amy Dunne.

It's being performed in Dublin as part of THEATREclub's theatre festival The Theatre Machine Turns You On: Volume 2 on Thursday 17th February, (yes, the day after tomorrow) at the Project Arts Centre, and in Kilkenny from 22-26 February at the Arts Office, No. 76 John Street. You should come. I'm going. It's going to be great.

Oh, and they've released a nice little promo video for their Scratcher performance in Dublin. It's basically a checklist of everything they're bringing with them. Y'know, guns and stuff. Lots of guns. And as we all know, guns = excitement and fun! And violence. But mostly fun. Chances are I could get arrested for this sort of talk... ah well.



So... you should come. Yep. Besides, it's on in the mid-term, and you'll probably have nothing else to do. No offence.

Oh, and just so you know... (Scratcher plugging ends here, so if you're not interested in anything else, then you might need to broaden your horizons a bit, and you might like to click here for Devious Theatre. It's a lovely website.) Anyway, just so you know, I feel that Apostrophe will, slowly but surely become a this-is-what-I'm-doing blog, a lot of which I have been reading recently, rather than a this-is-how-I-think-and-feel-about-things blog. Of course, it'll still be a blog where I feel and think about things, I can't not do that. I'll just be talking more about what I do be doing with my life. And this is my bridging sentence to my next paragraph.

Here we are. On the topic of posting... Usually, my aim is to post something in between every Quote of the Week, but, and I don't want to seem whiny, but it's a lot of pressure, and if I have nothing to post about, I start posting silly 'fillers', which are basically rubbish. You and Apostrophe (Yes, I'm referring to Apostrophe as an actual living being) deserve better. So on 20th February, I will be posting Quote of the Week #43, my last. I'll be posting more than one quote, so if anyone wants to say something good in the comments, go ahead.

Eleanor Roscuro

Alternative Blogging Week - The Political and Current Affairs Blog

Hello, and welcome to Tuesday! Today, Musings will be a Political and Current Affairs blog. (Don't worry, this will be more interesting than it sounds.) 

There are a lot of things going on in Ireland at the moment. I didn't fully understand this (which is quite an achievement, since this has been happening since 2008) so I asked my dad, and this is what he said...

IN THE BEGINNING (the 2000s) people liked buying lots of houses from property developers. To buy these houses, people took out loans from banks. Everything was OK.

BUT the people who bought the houses can't pay for them and the property developers are losing money which they borrowed from banks as well to build the houses.

SO the property developers can't pay back the money they borrowed from the banks.

SO the banks are losing lots and lots of money.

SO the banks appealed to the government to bail them out and the government guaranteed the bank losses. This means that anything the bank lost, the government (in which I mean the taxpayer) will pay it to them.

BUT this makes the government poor.

SO everyone's poor. Income tax gets the government €32 billion, but their expenditure comes to €50 billion. This is not good.

SO the EU are bailing out Ireland. They're giving us €85 billion to make everything OK. This was agreed on Sunday night.

SO... no one really knows what's going to happen. I mean, the EU and everyone who loaned us money has some control over Ireland, because they can tell us 'No! Don't spend ten million on hospitals and education! Spend it on lollipops!' They probably won't say that, but the important thing is THEY STILL HAVE THAT POWER.

AND lots of people are saying 'OMG Ireland's lost her sovereignity! Pearse and Connolly and Michael Collins are turning in their graves!' and some other people are saying 'Guys! Calm down! This is a really good thing for Ireland! England owe us anyway!' and some other people are saying 'KILL THE BANKERS!' and no one really knows what to do.

There are a million other factors, but this is the gist and will probably get you through a conversation.

And this is why you need to pass your exams, kids!

Tomorrow's Wednesday, which means that tomorrow, I'll be blogging about the business that we call show.

Eleanor Roscuro

WTF - Because I'm Irish...

My friends have a running argument whether my hair is russet or ruby red.

I have never used curling irons, because my hair already has bouncy curls, all the time.

My favourite artists include Westlife, The Dubliners, The Saw Doctors, and the Clancy brothers, God rest their souls.

People know I'm Irish because I say things like 'riddle me this'.

My liver lost its virginity at the age of seven, when my grandfather gave me a pint of Guinness and forced it down my throat. I drank the next five on my own and have three a day since. I'm an Irish abstainer.

I have a soft, lilting Irish accent that makes boys all over the world swoon.

I can say 'Irish wristwatch' without twisting my tongue.

Dancing Riverdance is my party trick.

When I'm bored, I count the freckles on my face. So far I have one hundred and thirty seven. That's as far as I've gotten before I lose count.

I knit all my own clothes. Did you know denim can be knitted?

I have emerald green eyes.

All my clothes are in varying shades of green. My favourite colours are jade and olive.

What the hell are Lucky Charms?

Miss Universe 2010 National Costumes - Beauty Spotlight

The 59th Miss Universe contest is currently underway in Las Vegas, and a few days ago, the contestants had to dress up in their national costumes. Here's some of my favourites... (I got the photos from Amusing Planet, and I recommend checking them out, because I couldn't fit all of them in here, and they're all fantastic!) Lady Gaga eat your heart out!

Miss Australia - Jesinta Campbell

Miss Brazil - Debora Lyra

Miss Great Britain - Tara Hoyos-Martinez

Miss British Virgin Islands - Josefina Nunez

Miss Curacao - Safira de Wit

Miss Guam - Vanessa Torres

Miss Haiti - Sarodj Bertin

Miss India - Ushoshi Sengupta

Miss Ireland - Rozanna Purcell

Miss Italy - Jessica Cecchini

Miss Jamaica - Yendi Phillips

Miss Mexico - Jimina Naverrete

Miss Poland - Maria Nowakowska

Miss Switzerland - Linda Fah

The Irish: How Not To Annoy Us

As an Irish person living in Ireland in the middle of the summer, I will often meet tourists from America/Australia/Western Europe/The Moon, who are all very tanned, and usually very confused. Because I am a good-ish citizen of Ireland, I have made a guide which you can use to help you understand how annoying you are, and how to avoid this and build more stable international relations, just like in the Triwizard Tournament. Because we get annoyed. That's why we have hurling, so we can work off all that tension. I know. We're barbarians.

1. Don't shout, our noise pollution is bad enough.

I walk into Kilkenny, and along with the other urban noises, we now have to contend with Spanish teenagers shouting in Spanish about how cold it is, how surprisingly warm it is, how bored they are, and lots of other inane stuff. Please, if you absolutely have to say it, be a little more polite and keep your voices down?

2. When I dance in the rain, don't give me funny looks.

When we give funny looks, we do it discreetly, and then complain about the subject over a cup of tea with a friend later. (The dirty look, is of course, another thing altogether...) When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

3. You are probably not Irish.

No one cares if your third cousin four times removed's aunt's grandmother once had a friend who made a 30 second phone call to Ireland once. YOU ARE NOT IRISH. I know how much you would like to be, but deal with it. We can't all be perfect.

4. Tea is ours.

Whoever said tea was English was such a wannabe (but still, can't blame them). People think that at four o'clock in the afternoon we just drop everything to have a cup of tea. We don't. We drink tea all the time. The minimum is six cups a day. Because doctor's bills are so expensive, we just have tea instead. IT IS NOT ENGLISH, IT IS IRISH! (Yes, I know technically it's Indian, but why are you even bothering to point this out to me? It's still ours!)

5. We don't wear green all the time.

Just because it's our colour and everything doesn't mean we wear it all the time. I once saw an American wearing head to toe green exclaiming to his more sane Irish friend 'I'm embracing your natural Irish culture! I'm trying to blend in!' That is not blending in. That is making a fool of yourself... But thanks for making the effort.

On behalf of the Irish people, I beseech all foreign tourists to show a little bit of respect, for God's sake!

DFTBA,

Eleanor Roscuro

Do You Know This Woman?

Last Sunday, I was up in Galway for the opening of the Galway Arts Festival! It took the form of a huge parade called the Macnas, which was the best parade I have ever seen. Forget St Patrick's Day, you need to see the Macnas. I have videos of it if anyone wants me to post them? Anyway, after the Macnas was over the various street performers that Galway is famous for came back on to the street and started performing again. One of the street performers was this woman:



She's quite clever, playing on people's curiosities! Isn't her costume and her manner beautiful? Anyway, I went up to get my slip of paper, and she took a long time deciding mine, but she eventually gave me this:

Cool or what?! Can you see the handwriting? I wonder what she wrote it with... Nice, isn't it?

High-Fives,

Eleanor Roscuro

We Are The Winners Of Eurovision, WE ARE! WE ARE!

The Eurovision Song Contest Final is on tomorrow.

Ireland got in.

You may have noticed I'm not saying much. Usually you can't shut me up. I guess I'm still in shock.

This is how Niamh Kavanagh got in to the final for us.



I know because of the block voting, you'll probably do this anyway, but United Kingdom, would you mind voting for us please? We'll vote for you. :) And, anyone else from Europe, it would be very nice if you would vote for us too. Please?

Dear Mary Coughlan...

I honestly have no idea why you are Minister for Education. I mean, when was the last time you went to school?...See, you can't remember. Exactly!

But the point of this letter is to complain about the Junior Certificate Gaeilge course, more specifically the poems. I like poetry. Well, not all of it: 'I wandered lonely as a cloud' doesn't exactly fill my heart with joy. But my copy of Fonn 3 contains this ridiculous excuse for a poem, translated from the Gaeilge:

The Ozone

I am the ozone

Here in the middle of the sky.

God made me long ago

To save you

From too much sun

And other ugly things.

I am telling you

To give care

To your neighbourhood,

To the world

Because you live there

And it depends on you.

Do not destroy anything

That you created

Take my advice

And you'll survive.

We will all survive

As we were meant to.

I'm not saying that I don't care about the environment, because I do. My family gets really annoyed with me about it sometimes. It's just a HORRIBLE poem. Perhaps if you improved the quality of your poems, students would be more enthusiastic about learning them? Because I don't know how I'm going to sit through this for the next couple of weeks...

Yours sincerely,

Eleanor Roscuro

La Fheile Padraig

Today is Paddy's Day everyone! And it's my patriotic duty to post about it, since I'm too young to get drunk. Saint Patrick is kind of a fake anyway. Here:

• Patrick DIDN'T drive the snakes out of Ireland. The cold and wet did that, 200 years before Patrick showed up in Ireland.
• Patrick DIDN'T bring Christianity to Ireland. When Roman Britian collapsed, some of the new Christians fled to Ireland from the pagan invaders and took their religion with them,
  years before Patrick.
• Patrick WASN'T the first Irish bishop. The first Irish bishop was Palladius, appointed by the Pope. But he didn't stay long. He couldn't speak the language, didn't like the country and the Irish threw stones at him.

So there. 'nods smugly'

But this is my favourite Patrick story which is probably true...

Patrick went to the Rock of Cashel to baptize High King Leary. By then, Patrick was getting a bit old so he always had to stick his bishop's staff into the ground to heave himself on to his feet. Unfortunately the staff went through King Leary's foot and pinned it to the ground. But Leary didn't complain or shout 'Watch me bloody foot!' because he thought it was all part of the baptism service!

Oh, and I want to know what all of ye are doing for Paddy's Day. Are there parades where you live? Is there a politician there from Ireland? Every year all our politicians, including the Taoiseach, go abroad for Paddy's Day, but they all spend thousands on limosuines and hotel suites, and everyone gives out about it because they're spending taxpayers money. And Ireland is the worst hit country in Europe from the recession.

La Fheile Padraig!

Quote Of The Week #4

A man was convicted of a serious offence, but somehow he neglected to mention at his trial that he was in prison when the crime was committed. Asked why he didn't tell the court this, he explained, 'I was afraid it would prejudice the jury against me.'

Humorous Irish Anecdotes by Aubrey Dillon-Malone.

Quote Of The Week #2

God, I almost forgot!

Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.

That's Samuel Beckett.



But on the other hand, he SAID it, you know?

Mother Nature Must Be Really Pissed Off With Us Right Now. Would She Mind Telling Us Why, Please?

Oh My Stars...I'm watching No Frontiers on RTE ONE. The presenter, Kathryn Thomas, and her sister, are touring Skapelos, the island where Mamma Mia! was filmed!(!!!!!!!!!!!!) Britain has loads of holiday shows, while our little island only has one. Which is why every television programme in Ireland is either absolutely rubbish or brilliant, because there's no competition!

Another freezing cold night again. The entire country has had sub-zero temperatures for the past three weeks, and many people have been trapped in their homes for God knows how long. Only the main roads are (kind of) safe. And yet, we're not cold enough for snow either! Huh!

Yeah...You can tell I'm annoyed.