Sunday, June 21, 2009

An awkward period of dehydration and sluggishness or a spiritual experience?

It seems that one enjoys and endures just about every emotion during a hangover; particularly a hangover which follows an evening of drama.

Intense jubilation and ecstasy and gut-wrenching depression can creep up out of nowhere and take you over for the duration of the alcohol's existence in your body. It's really annoying.

Right now, I'm experiencing a Tennessee Bourbon-flavoured experience. A light, moderately stinging in the head without the brain-chewing intensity of the Vodka Version, but somewhat more persistent and consistent. I can live with it.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Languishing in the doldrums of Summer mundanity

Everyone puts 'The Summer' on such a high pedestal. Anyone with such a significant amount of time on their hands, pleasant weather to look forward to and aspirations of wealth and wonder are going to imagine the Summer to be blissfully, endlessly exciting.

And it never is.

Much like the rest of the year, every day is spent waiting and longing for something that is either a ways away, or not likely to happen at all. One could use the 'just seize the day and shut up' argument, but how can the day be seized when there's no money, no sun and not really all that many people around? It's a tricky business.

The immediate option is to flee from this side of the Atlantic and hope for greener pastures in the US of A or the mountainous mystery that is Canadialand. Ask ten people who have opted for this approach in the last year however, and you're likely to hear stories of bumming around a room with ten other people, with no space, no money and nothing to do.

So with all of this negativity, what can we turn to?

This question raises all sorts of interesting answers. Without any money or company, we are forced to find ways to fill our time, leading to conceivably more interesting activities than before. Thanks to boredom, I have joined a gym, written the first few chapters of an endearingly crap story that no one will ever read and have re-ignited an old love affair with my Xbox. Last week, I even got to see my best friend break a world record. In spite of the seemingly pathetic existence this is, I will look as fondly back on this as any of my European travel experiences or any of the other wonderfully expensive activities that filled my previous Summers.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Elections, elections, elections...

So today, I am asked to cast a vote based on who I find to be the most elegible man or woman to a) represent my constituency in An Dáil and b) the person I find to most capable of fighting Dublin's battle in the EU.

I'll be honest. I've left it all to the last minute to enforce any sort of informed voting knowledge into my feeble student brain, with frantic internet searches. Between the pressures of working a part-time job, to the the gruelling task of all-night Xbox and DVD marathons, to spending hours upon end on pointless websites promoting vapid absurdity; learning and reading about Politicians and what they were going to do for me seemed like a task that could wait.

Not that I was entirely to blame, of course.

Every single time a politician has called to my door, he asked to see Mammy or Daddy. One could use the "Ah, but they probably didn't think you had the vote, yet," argument, but that is irrelevant considering the fact that I (and most of my friends) would appear to be at least three years older than I actually am (which is 19). Not to mention the fact that another friend of mine who is pushing thirty endured a similar experience. Is it that we exude a sense of social rebelliousness? Are we so 'punk' in our appearance that politicians assume we have no interest in voting? Do they immediately cast us off as non-voters?

The climax of this 'Candidapathy' (apparently that actually is a word) came when I was strolling home from the vaccuous pit of commercialistic despair that is Dundrum Town Center, dressed up to the nines in the shirt and tie that my clothes-shop career requires of me (with shades and a jacket thrown in). Instead of the previous "You're unlikely to vote, give this leaflet to Daddykins," attitude, I was treated with full-attention and even a handshake.

My response? "Yes, yes, very good," followed by a smooth walk away and the conspicuous crumpling-up of a candidate's flyer. Man, I'm awesome.

I suppose the point that I'm trying to make is that it's a vicious circle. Young people are interested in the elections, but not in politicians (most of us, anyway). Politicians are interested in people, but none of them young. Therefore, when the two elements are forced to mix, they usually don't. Politicians don't bother campaigning to the young people and as a result, the young people don't bother listening when they do.

Most of my friends probably aren't going to vote. While I may not be the most informed of the voters out there, I'm going to, for no other reason than to exercise my right and to get the ball rolling.