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True Irony is August

I originally meant to write something about August being Women’s Month or something. Something something something, I don’t remember what I was actually going to post anymore. But the irony now lies in the fact that I so fully intended to write this month. This was going to be my month. And (ironically) it kind of has been, but so fully not in the way I meant it to be. But I digress, because now I’m just going to spew words about these eighteen days of August I’ve just lived through.

I work at the most amazing hotel. For the past two days at work I have seen foodie journalists treated to spectacular lunches and wines and cocktails, for nothing beyond the fact that they write about delicious things and other people read their writing and we’re very keen that they write and they read respectively about us. How amazing is that? I’m very tempted to move away from… random stuff and start being a food blogger. Like this guy, who has also benefited rather nicely at times. Hey! I’m not at all saying they live a life of free food and no work, because consistent writing and consistent standards are two very important things in any journalism, but I think sometimes the perks must really be nice.

What else happened in August?

World Breastfeeding Week did, which is one of those beliefs and hobby horses, and occasional rants, that I’ve inherited from my mother.

Oh, my tattoo has healed – not that I wrote about it – and in spite of fears it would turn out blotchy, the blotchy…well, it IS, because the scab rubbed off against my jacket and/or bedsheet, but the blotchy is not very noticable. It’s kind of a kick in the face of my obsessive neurosis and/or general idea that things are going to go against me, that it actually didn’t.

I’ve also self-diagnosed myself with ADHD following a pyschology lecture I went to this morning, but we’ll see how long I can keep that up. Not like this potentially imaginary ADHD has really made an impact on my life.

Anyhow, work has really taken over my life, and I have nothing else to talk about anymore. Also, I have worn high heels for nine hours for three days in a row, so I think that deserves me a rest.


True Irony is Family, And a Little Nostalgia

(With much love and respect guys…)

I’m visiting my family this week.

It’d be so awesome to say “I’m home for the week” but I’m not. Aside from the fact that my mum moved from her place, my childhood home, to her brother’s farm, I’ve been living on my own for close to five years. The only way I remember it’s five is because I’ve been invited to my high school class’s reunion. So it’s not reeeeally home anymore, though it is a good base to have.

I love my family, and I’ve had such a good relationship with all of them throughout my life that it’s really hard to contemplate what NOT having siblings, cousins, grandparents and so on would be like. They form a strong web below me and I’m thoroughly grateful to them for everything, through everything I’ve done.

However, they still manage to drive me nutts, and yes, that’s with two T’s, and if you get the joke then well done you.

I’ve come to realise that as the oldest of all of them – I have one brother, three first cousins here and another two overseas – I don’t really fit in anymore.

It’s so easy to tell them that I’ve been thirteen, seventeen, twenty, and that I can understand them if they need my help. But it’s too easy to become wrapped up in my newly adult life and not be in touch. Not even Facebook helps, on certain days. And slowly I become separated. And even when I visit, I’m not one of the group anymore. I have a degree, and a job, and I (mostly) pay my own way in the world, and this makes me a Grown Up and therefore Not One Of The Group. Even though I’ve not known how to handle myself my first time drinking, or have had the petty squabbles high schoolers are so fond of.

I’m not far enough away to be a novelty for everyone to hang around when I do visit, but I don’t visit often enough to be included in anything anyone does without some level of awkward and misguided conversation. (It is so bloody hard to ask a girl about her boyfriend if she’s seven years younger than you…)

I think I need to either live next door to them, or live on the other side of the country… Half an hour’s drive just doesn’t cut it…

True Irony is Adulthood

When you’re little, you dream of being big, because being big means you can do a lot more than when you’re little.

Being an adult means you can do aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanything you want to do.

And then.

Then you grow up.

You get a job.

You have a life.

And by gods, you can never do anything you want, because everyone just wants stuff from you.

True Irony is Tongue In Cheek

I do love this phrase.

According to Wikipedia writers, who – online at least – are my fact-finding heros, it began as a sign of contempt. To literally poke your tongue into your cheek was quite obviously an expression of disgust. (This does puzzle me a bit. Perhaps rather people stuck their tongues OUT and it was just referred to as in their cheeks? Meh.)

Over time, as language often does, it’s turned into a lovely witty phrase. Someone who is tongue in cheek, or has a tongue in cheek view of things is often quite funny, slightly cynical, and more often than not, a little bit wistful inside. And more often than not, quite intelligent too, and extraordinarily aware of themselves.

Case in point:

A group of about five people met to discuss simplicity and its meaning. They’ve all been asked to bring along something that symbolises simplicity, or could be used to illustrate simplicity. Now, in the context, everyone is well aware that the intention is to move towards the simple life. Lack of complication, et cetera.

Our heroine is equally aware of this, but being the kind of person she is, she brings along a few items:

A quote from Einstein:

Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.

A description of Captain Carrot from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld:

People think of Carrot as being simple, however their mistake is in confusing “simple” with “stupid”.

And a picture:

These things are rather across the board as far as similarity goes, and she recognised that, with the additional awareness that simplicity is both good and bad.

This display of thought was described to another as “tongue in cheek”.

But in case you haven’t noticed,

tongue in cheek

is pure

irony in motion.

True Irony is a Broken Keyboard

my keyboard’s shift button doesn’t work properly.


neither does the ctrl button.


and often the alt button.


it’s very annoying, and makes editing and other small, normal tasks really difficult on my computer.


so excuse me if sometimes i write like this.


but if i ever write a bracket sentence 9like this0 you have total permission to hatemail me, because then i would just be an idiot.

True Irony is Seasonal

People keep bitching about the weather.


A friend of mine lives in a town with the most hellish weather. Boiling in summer and miserably wet and windy in winter.


Do you think she moves?


I get emails about how blistering bloody hot it is and then six months later I hear about how terribly, terribly cold she gets at her computer.


Well played.


I love summer, and we have amazing summers.


But I hate being cold. I really really really hate being cold, I cannot put enough emphasis on this fact. My nose and sometimes my fingers and always  my toes are a ghastly shade of white-blue during winter. I don’t know if it’s low circulation but I can put my foot into lukewarm water and feel as though I am going to die from the pain. I can go on about how miserable I get but then it just becomes drone.


But, luckily, I live in a place that makes up for the cold by having lots of lovely winter rain.




Me too.

True Irony Is A Literary Rant

Put it like this:

The publication of “Lord of the Rings” was delayed several times, pretty much to the point of desperation.

“Twilight” was sold for an unusually large sum for a first novel.

One is the second best selling novel ever written.

The latter has no depth, no character growth, and has a rather anticlimactic ending.

Tolkien created people, languages, and a world.

Meyer took a terrifying creature and covered it in glitter.

So no, publishers and editors are NOT gods.

I’m just saying.

True Irony is Sometimes Hurtful

I saw a really fat guy on a bike today.


He’d tied a red flag to the seat bar.


I don’t like to comment on things like this, because it is hurtful and unthinking, but I thought the red flag was hilarious.


He wasn't this fat though.

True Irony is not being able to do clever titles every time

Consider this post just some thoughts.

You’d think that always being on a computer I’d be doing useful stuff, unless you spend as much time on one as I do.

Because, nope.

I discovered that the next game in my favourite game series, the Elder Scrolls, is being released later this year.

And I turned into this guy.

And finished my cap on the 20th of May. And I never – almost – get capped before the 29th, if at all.

(And allllllllllllllllll my friends asked why, if I watched the vids so much as to cap myself, I didn’t just download them.


It’s because I’m a girl.)

Anyway, so that’s one reason I haven’t posted.

Also, work is so busy that it breaks my brain. Which is really great, on the one hand, but on the other I was getting lazy and used to doing a lot less. So it’s still great, except that I am still adjusting. I indulge in a little pity party for the first twenty minutes of my day, when I wonder why I do it, and then I get there and start, and all the good reasons rush back, so I’m actually really lucky.

Another great thing about 2011 is that the next book in A Song of Ice and Fire is coming out. I’m having such a good year.

And I’m such a nerd. I learnt these lyrics from watching the vid, about two weeks before I realised they were on YouTube:

Holy shit, what is this?
Forged in God’s very flames.
Do mine eyes tell me lies,
A new Elder Scrolls Game?
Time is nigh, I must fly,
Venture forth on my quest.
Goodbye Ma, goodbye Pa
And goodbye Girlfriend’s breasts.
I’ll be off Azeroth, catch you later Hyrule.
I’ll be gone Albion, I’m no longer your fool.
Other crap filled the gap
While I waited to begin…
The adventure of my life
in the land of Skyrim!

True Irony is May 2 2011

SO! I think I’m ready to comment on the death of Osama. (Can I call the raid Obsama? Not that I’ll necessarily reference it but if I do, then we have Obama, Osama, Obsama… For funs. Yes? All righty then.)

Obviously the first moment was: WOW. Osama’s dead. Who’d’ve guessed it would ever happen? The man was becoming a legend for not being found. And everyone thought he’d be caught in a cave (because that’s where all the cool terrorists hang).

And then… Everyone was celebrating.

A photo I found with Google of an actual celebration on the streets of New York.

That actually blew me away. I could not possibly conceive of a world in which people danced in the streets because of one man’s death.

Osama was not a good man. He masterminded a terrible, terrible event. He ensured the death of thousands of innocent people and led hundreds into self-destruction.

But to celebrate his death as much as one would celebrate, say, winning the World Cup? No.

And it was not just soldiers or families of people affected by his actions, it was not citizens of a demoralised empire under his control… It was everyone. And – here’s the obligatory irony, though it verges more on hypocrisy – this included people who opposed the death penalty.

Obviously not upper class papers

This one man, this human who is in many ways nomore or less than so many others, was through his actions demonised to an unrealistic degree. As I said, he was not a good person. But he was still only a human.

All of these thoughts actually follow from Moment Number Three, when I read an article (or comment on an article) which stated that families and friends of people killed by the al Qaeda will find closure.


It was a surprise to ME.

When I was fourteen my father was killed in Eritrea by a group originally believed to belong to the ERIJ. Terrorists. So I’m not affected by the al Qaeda directly. But I think it’s safe to say I am pretty much in the same boat – except apparently not, because I found closure by myself and they were lucky enough to have someone responsible so publicly “dealt” with (it takes a lot out of me to portray them THAT way but I’ll leave it…).

But the quibble is not the point – their closure lead to some celebration.

And “celebration” brought me to a discussion I had with a friend a few days ago about religious terminology.

She takes offence to the way certain groups speak of Easter as a “celebration” of the death of Jesus. She says she cannot find it in her to celebrate the death of such an incredible person. She would much rather celebrate the life he led.

Obviously many Westerners – and I’m using this term literally, to define people to the West of, well, the Middle East – would not compare the two people. But they will speak of celebrating both deaths.

My own personal feelings on any of this aside: patient reader, my question is this… How is it that we, as people who do not change that much between one day and another, can ascribe the same word and concept to two very different ideas?

(Hey, so I didn’t use Obsama. Oh well.)

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