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It’s True, Nobody Likes You When You’re 23

I must admit, 8 months into my 23rd year and I’m starting to think Blink 182 were on to something.  In case anyone reading is unaware, (and it’s not obvious from the title), they coined the infamous lyric ‘nobody likes you when you’re 23’.

Twenty three is just awkward. It’s not as crazy as 18. It’s not as fun as 21. It’s not as blissfully oblivious as 22. Why you might ask? well because 23 is that horrible year where you have to start realising things. (Kylie Jenner I’m lookin’ at you).  You’re plucked from your lovely little college nest and turfed out in the real world to start fending for yourself.

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They don’t prepare you for this kind of thing. Nobody teaches you how to suddenly adult. Sure I spent the last four years perfecting the art of seeking out the cheapest wine, but that’s not exactly going to equip me for the impending 9-5 slog (although some would disagree with me!).

I’ve found these months of my post college life to be some of the toughest thus far. It’s more than coincidental that this time seems to coincide with my 23rd year..

I mean it’s very difficult figuring out what you want to do with your life, and it can be disconcerting when things don’t go how you expect. I packed up my life and hopped on over to London, only to move back 8 months later. As buzzfeed once said (yes, I’m quoting buzzfeed), you’re expected to have your shit together, but have none of the resources required to get your shit together. Truer words have never been spoken.

It seems like you have a lot of options, but they all come with some sort of catch. Do you find a job and start working right away? But that leaves no time for travel. But how do you fund the travel without a job first? So many questions, so little answers. Whatever you find yourself doing though, it’s terrifying because it’s the first time you have any real responsibility.

You’re an adult, but you’re essentially the baby version of an adult.

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Now you have to start thinking about scary things, like making appointments for yourself and learning how to cook a roast dinner. On top of all this you’re faced with the realistation that your next significant birthday isn’t until 40 (we all know people who throw 30th’s are kidding themselves).

All of a sudden you can’t afford your lifestyle. All of your lovely luxury student discounts have disappeared, and you weren’t prepared for the reality of ‘adult’ prices. Honestly how do they expect you to afford full whack when now you actually have to pay bills? So rude.  With that being said, I’m still doing my best with the ‘strategic thumb place’ and wrangling whatever cinema and train tickets I can. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do;)

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The thought of getting older is scary because you feel so far behind both in an emotional sense and a career sense. You’re itching to get beyond your years and make something of yourself, yet at the same time you don’t feel as if you’re ready. It’s a total mind-field really.

I read someone describe the year of 23 as ‘upsetting, brightening, hardening and hectic all at once’. I couldn’t agree more. It’s just one big massive limbo. I find myself pushing myself to be the best version of myself. I’m constantly striving to do better. I find myself in working environments surrounded by people who have achieved so much, and subsequently I feel a bit useless. I then have to remind myself that these people are much older than me. They have more experience, and I am only, after all, just twenty three.

The biggest thing I’ve learned in the last few months is that sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. Because the truth is you ain’t gonna walk out those college gates and into your dream job. You’re still gonna have to rely on a helping hand every now and again, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have to walk before you run and all that jazz.

If nothing else, 24 is only 5 months away 😉

 

 

 

 

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Life after the Leaving Cert- You are more than a piece of paper

So leaving cert results day is upon us once more. This morning thousands of Irish students across the country will open a brown envelope that they think will determine the course of their life. The truth is many of you will be overjoyed, but the other sad reality is many of you will be disappointed. And that’s Okay. I know we’ve heard this countless times.  Every year it’s the same spiel, ‘it’s not the be all and end all’ ‘there are ways and means around everything’. At the time they seem like throwaway comments to make those who didn’t quite get what they wanted feel better, but in actual fact it’s the truth. I didn’t believe it then, but I sure as hell do now. For anyone feeling a little let down today, let me share with you my leaving cert story.

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I sat my Leaving Cert in June 2011. (Still coming to terms with the fact that, that was five whole years ago). I was 17. The world was my oyster (or clam as I once very blondely referred to it).  For a long while I struggled to find what it was I actually wanted to do after school. All around me classmates were interested in being teachers, doctors, lawyers, accountants, nurses, radiographers, dietitians, pharmacists, scientists, vets, you name it. But I knew I didn’t want to be any of those things. They just didn’t appeal to me. It felt like there wasn’t a single course out there to suit me. It was by chance that I actually discovered my area of interest.

Surprise surprise it was actually at one of those tedious higher options fares that you only go a long to, to skive a day off school. But it turned out to be very useful. I realised that my passions lay with writing and the media. Within weeks I had decided that media and Journalism was the route for me. Looking back it definitely wasn’t one of the more advertised courses.

Anyway my friends agreed it was the perfect avenue for the blunt, outspoken Jess they knew. So I started working towards my goal. At roughly around 435 points in all of the colleges that offered it across the country, it was achievable. I decided on UL as my first choice. There was an extra entry requirement in most colleges of at least a B3 in English, but as far as I was concerned this wouldn’t be an issue. English was my subject. I loved it all the way up both primary and secondary school. As a child I was always writing stories in my spare time. Most people loathed Shakespeare and the the list of ‘boring dead white guys’ i.e  poets, but I loved it all. It was a welcome escape from algebra, equations and the Krebbs cycle.

I worked hard, I did my homework, listened in class, and did my bit of study every night. I didn’t kill myself, but I definitely applied myself. When the two weeks of exams came I was confident. I was happy with every exam bar English paper 2. I felt I over thought it a lot, which resulted in me panicking slightly through it, but aside from that I was home free.

Summer began and the worries of the results were put on hold until August. I went to Oxegen with my friends to celebrate. Almost every weekend thereafter was spent traipsing around the public houses of Kilkenny city. Summer 2011 was a good’un. Then came August and I was turning 18. A mere 3 days before results day. The excitement and simultaneous nervousness was rife.

I’ve spoken about it briefly in previous blog posts, but the night of my 18th was bitter sweet. Many of you reading probably already know, but my drink was spiked pretty badly. I ended up suffering an adverse reaction, which saw me confused and disorientated in hospital the night before results were out. The spiking caused a chemical imbalance in my brain so I was really unwell.  Not exactly what I had planned but sure hey. That’s a story for another day.

The morning of results came and my mam had gone in to collect my results and bring them home, seeing as I had only been released from hospital late the previous night. I’ll never forget the feeling of opening the envelope, hands shaking my entire future rested in what was enclosed. I ripped it open and quickly scanned to make sure there were no Ds or Fs. I saw As Bs and Cs. Relief. When I had calmed down enough to check what each grade was in, I was met with a wave of horror.
I just remember asking “What’s the second C in?” Everyone in the kitchen was silent. But it was there in black and white.
English: C1.

C fucking 1.  

I needed at least a B3. My sister added up my points and informed me that I had received 495. Amazing, 60 over what I needed. But it didn’t matter. I still couldn’t do what I wanted. My favourite subject had let me down. I had gone from an A/B student to a C. I threw the piece of paper on the floor and I ran down to my room. I was still suffering the affects of the spiking, so later that day I actually tried to convince myself my family had conspired against me and fabricated my results. I demanded to see the ‘real’ copy. It was all pretty crazy. In the days that followed I was in and out of hospital for check ups.

It soon transpired that I would be taking a year out before going to college. My family encouraged me that it was for the best. I was well and truly devastated. It was never part of my plan. But looking back I was too unwell to start, plus I didn’t get straight Journalism so I needed the time to figure out what I was going to do. In an instant all my college dreams were slashed. I felt like a failure. Watching all my home friends move away and start new and exciting lives in Dublin and beyond was one of the hardest things I’ve gone through. Though my friends were amazing to keep in touch, I couldn’t help but feel left behind.

I never thought I would be the one it would happen to. I wasn’t going to be the disappointed one, no. Not me. Yet I ended up getting hit with a double edged sword. For the year I was off as a result of everything that happened, my mental health suffered a lot. I grew into myself and I was sad and lonely all the time. Who was blunt, outspoken Jess? Where was she? 

A dodgy drink and a piece of paper had ruined my life. (or so I believed at the time).

It wasn’t until the summer before I was due to start college the following year, that I truly started feeling like myself again. I realised the grade wasn’t a reflection on my abilities, and that what happened the night of my 18th wasn’t my fault. I went inter-railing and I re-discovered the spark in life. I had debated about repeating my English, but I didn’t want to go through the stress of it all again. Given it’s so subjective who’s to say some cranky old examiner wouldn’t have given me a C all over again?

My heart was still with UL though, so I decided to go for their New Media and English course instead. I could always do a post grad dip in Journalism after, if I so desired. Once I had gotten over the disappointment, I realised the range of options available at my fingertips.

So you see, I was more than the piece of paper. It just took me a little while to realise it. There’s an old cheesy quote that goes something like ‘sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck’, and I firmly believe that.

Five years on,  I’m working in London and flying home to graduate in 5 days. If it hadn’t been for everything that happened in August 2011, I wouldn’t have the friends, boyfriend, and wonderful memories and life experiences I have now.

So if you’re any way upset today, please know there is life after the leaving cert! It’s natural to feel this way, but I promise you, your dreams aren’t over.

So cry it out, drown your sorrows in a few naggins, but don’t let it hold you back. It didn’t define me, and it doesn’t define you.Plus life is more fun if there are a few twists and turns a long the way! The straight road is overrated.

You are more than a piece of paper.
~Jessie
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The end of an era

Earlier today I sat the last exam of my undergraduate life and presumably my academic education. The only way to describe how i’m feeling right now is bitter sweet. I sit in my bare college room with three packed suitcases and a heavy heart full of four years of memories.

I never expected to feel this emotional. I knew this day was fast approaching, and I couldn’t wait. Finally an escape from exams, deadlines, essays. But with that comes an overwhelming sense of sadness for all the late night DMCs, drunken shenanigans and top pizzas that must too be left behind. My university life started and finished in the blink of an eye. Sitting in this bare room reminds me of the day post leaving cert me moved all of her stuff into her first shared accommodation in UL.I’ll never forget the absolute excitement of it. Living with five other strangers about to embark on the same adventure.The first few weeks are a blur, finding my feet, settling in, making friends, nursing hangovers. And now here I am. Almost 23  (still nursing hangovers) and just three months shy of getting my coveted piece of paper (hopefully!).

My four years have honestly been a jam packed adventure, and I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m an emotional wreck over them ending. I got to do so much over the course of my degree. I’ve lived in two foreign countries, I’ve worked in the capital, I’ve met and made friends all over the world. Of course I’ve made some pretty questionable decisions along the way, but sure isn’t it all part of the process? I am so grateful for every single experience good and bad that I’ve had, and I’m lucky that I get to look back on them all with such fond memories. From being a bag of nerves over a little presentation, to now being able to stand up in a room full of people with absolute confidence and ease. From the A’s to the C’s and the FYPs, the stress, the tears and the LOls – I won’t ever forget any of it.

For anyone who may be reading this who is just starting their college journey; firstly have a pint in the stables for me, go out as much as you can (the work always gets done) and embrace every single moment of it, because it really goes by far too quickly.

For any employers who also may be reading this: Hi I’m a nice, well rounded girl who is the ultimate ideal candidate. I’ll never be late and I give good hugs. Please hire me. 🙂

UL- it’s been real, but now it’s time to go adult.

~Jessie 

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Final Year Fear

FF_Divider_Pink4I’m aware at this stage that a lot of my recent blogs have adopted the same ‘help I’m in final year’ tone, but it’s hard not to think about the fact that ‘real adulthood’ is getting closer with each passing day.

I mean fuck, it’s scary. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. Looking back first year seems like it was just yesterday, but at the same time it also feels like a million years ago. Back in 2012  19 year old fresher me thought 2016 was a lifetime a way. Yet here I am. A mere 12 weeks off graduating and becoming a person. It’s kind of a catch 22. In one way I can’t wait to finish and finally be done with essays, group presentations, and classic literature! But on the other hand I’m going to miss university life and the prospect of finding a job is actually terrifying.

When you’re little you  just assume that when you grow up you get a job and become successful, like it’s that easy. You also have that blissful innocence that you can be anything you want to be. I, like many others went through many different stages of wanting to be many different things. I think my very first dream job was to become an actress. I was quite the little drama queen, so it didn’t seem too far out of my reach.  I loved performing on ‘the stage’ in our house (that is the step in our family kitchen). I would parade around for anyone that would give me the time of day. It was all fun and games, until I realised we didn’t live in Hollywood and despite being a dead ringer for Beans from Disney’s ‘Evens Stevens,’ I wasn’t destined for sitcom fame.

So then came my next dream job. The classic ‘I love animals so naturally I’m going to be a vet’ phase. That is until I was swiftly informed I’d have to operate on the ‘ugly’ animals too. And there’d be blood. Ew. After that I think I scaled my ambitions back again. I decided I was going to be a teacher. But I had a conflict of interest because I also wanted to be an author. Naturally ten year old me decided that this wasn’t going to be a problem and I was just going to do both. Yep a teacher by day, and a kick ass best selling novelist by night. I think somewhere in between that I also wanted to be a doctor, but I knew even then that I couldn’t forgo my social life for 600 leaving cert points and 7 odd years in college. (Serious kudos to all those who do).

I suppose at this stage you’re wondering the point of this little rambling. I just think it’s funny that when you’re younger you have no concept of limitations or self doubt. Anything is achievable and you have the whole world in your sights. Now that I’m finally at this stage in my life it’s like I feel as If I can’t do any of it. Though deep down I know I have the skills, it’s just that awful fear of not being good enough, or not getting hired etc.  It’s mad, when you’re a child you’re supposed to look to the adults for help and guidance. Though I find myself longing for reassurance from fearless 10 year old me. I know she’d give me a right kick up the arse and tell me to cop myself on. Call me crazy but I think we’d actually be much better adults if we rekindled our inner child a bit! Obviously within reason.

There’s a common complaint among myself and those in my course; and that is we don’t get the time to read and write the things we actually want to read and write! Which is precisely why I’m writing this blog, to escape the annoying demands of  my FYP. In some ways I feel like academic life really does curb your creativity and confidence. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have time to work on other skills and aspects needed for the ‘dream job’. Which nowadays involves either staff writing for an online publication or something within radio or broadcast journalism. But ironically the further I progress in my academic pursuits, the further away it seems. Strange that.

Anyway I’m sure there’s going to be plenty more tears and breakdowns over the next twelve weeks, but as I’ve so frequently heard, ‘It’s all a means to an end’. Where I’ll be this time next year I’ve no clue, but as long as I have good people, a strong shade of Mac lippy, and a customary glass of wine in tow, I’m sure I’ll be alright.

Until the next existential Crisis!

~Jessie

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50 reasons why living with your college best friends is the greatest

Three weeks ago I started my final year of college and while it may be bitter sweet, I’m already appreciating every little moment. It’s crazy to think that in less than a year it’s all going to be over. Recent antics got me thinking about how much I cherish my housemates. You start college fresh from secondary school eager and excited to meet new people and make new friends. What they don’t tell you about it is how long it can actually take to find good friends, you know your people. Your squad. Your MVPs. (Or in the case of me and one special friend, Your Nigs). Call it whatever you want they’ll eventually become your BFFs.

I went through a lot of shit and drama before I found ‘the ones’. I suppose it’s because you’re surrounded by so many new people. All with different outlooks and opinions. But hang in there, because when you do find your people there’s no turning back! I’m living with 5 of the craziest girls ever. (Not excluding two equally fantastic blow ins, who we unfortunately couldn’t officially house due to the lack of 8bed houses in Limerick Citaaay). Anyway there are certain things about this living situation I wouldn’t change for the world. So naturally I decided to blog about why it’s so great. Here are 50 reasons why living with your college best friends is the greatest thing ever.


1. You’ll never be lonely. Even if you’re single and dateless, with 5 extras in the house there will always be someone to spoon. Your huns will understand this and embrace it. Even though you all live in the same house sleepovers are frequent and accepted. See below:

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2. You’ll never really be stuck for something to wear. With five extra wardrobes you’re bound to find something to sort you out. Whether it’s a pair of tights, a dress for a night out or even a knickers, the gals got you covered. Literally.

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3. They’ll never judge you for skipping college and staying in your Pajamas all day. Chances are they’re doing it too so you don’t even have to feel guilty about being a complete waster.

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4. It’s completely acceptable to walk into one another’s rooms in just a towel or your underwear. (Or in some cases in the middle of the night covered in your own vomit with a pot on your head…not naming names….)

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5. Someone will always have something you need. Be it tan, toothpaste, a hair bobbin, bog roll, milk. They’d hate to see ya stuck.
6. You can tell them anything. And I mean anything. Nothing is too gorey or gruesome for the fam. It also helps if one of your housemates is a nurse and you’re the hypochondriac of the group.
7. Sharing poor life decisions is a weekly, shameful, yet undeniably enjoyable routine.
8. Hangover chats. Every Friday consists of piling into someone’s room and discussing the antics of thirsty Thursday, while simultaneously complaining about how you’re all dying.
9. Ordering massive family meals from your favourite takeaways. You all have the dominos, papa johns and  Chinese meal deals off to a T. So much so that these fine establishments often text you.No RAgrets.

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10. The group chat game is strong. It’s Friday you’ve all gone your separate ways for the weekend. It’s only been a couple of hours since you’ve all seen each other, but already the group chat is hopping and stays that way until you’re finally reunited on Sunday.
11. Even though you’re all mutually broke, someone will always have money at any given time, thus supporting the rest of the fam until the favour can be returned.

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12. Pre drinks are always the best part of the night. Time to drag up all the dirt you have on each other with a good old fashioned game of never have I ever.
13. There’ll always be at least one voice of reason when you’re deciding whether or not you should “text him”.

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14. In all seriousness though they’ll always look out for you and have your back.

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15. You’ll see the best and worst of each other. Best being the on point selfies, worst being covered in mascara and crying into a curry chip.

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16. They’ll carry you home if you ever get too drunk. Literally. They will carry your ass into the house. Again not naming names…
17. Someone will always have a key. Except in the rare instance where you all lose your sets and decide to go out leaving the door unlocked and propped open with a wheelie bin and a dressing gown…
18. Evenings spent sitting in the siting room discussing life are literally best. Sometimes better than any night out.

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19. You’ve all shared advice regarding each other’s love lives. Or lack thereof.
20. You’ve contemplated buying a pet, but decided given your responsibility levels it would be wise not to.
21. Instead you all decide to ‘adopt’ the homeless earless cat that wanders around outside your house.
22. You have a love/hate relationship with your passive aggressive 84 year old neighbour.
23. You’re guaranteed to laugh a lot every day.
24. There’s always a practical one in the group who can change lightbulbs and fix the TV and shit.
25. You’ll soon find you can tell what each other is thinking or communicate with just looks.IMG_1443
26. You know all their parents, siblings, and dogs first names.
27. You feel like extended members of each other’s families.
28. You’ve been to visit each other’s home towns.
29. You know everyone’s pet peeves.
30. You come to accept the annoying living habits about one another.
31. You end up having weird exercise regimes, like that one time you went for a family walk. Or when you went to TRX and then couldn’t bend down for the muffins in aldi the next day.
32. You may have found yourselves discussing the possibility of civil partnerships with one another.

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33. You text each other even though you’re literally only a few rooms apart.
34. You’ve probably all heard one another having sex.
35. But you’re okay with that because woo! one of the fam scored.
36. You all have nicknames for each other.
37. You’ve heard each other sing and definitely think you should be the next destiny’s child.
38. You’ve killed it together on the dance floor.
39. You’ve picked one another up when you’ve all drunkenly fallen. Except for that one time one of you fell out of a bus…
40. It’s become completely acceptable to inform the fam when you have to go for a number 2.

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41. It is also subsequently acceptable to describe said number 2 often using the Bristol stool chart..
42. You know each other’s PIN numbers and have thus fraped the absolute shit out of one another.
43. You’ve gone on major Facebook/Tinder/Instagram creeps collectively as a fam.

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44. You’ve collected some amazing memories together.
45. There will always be someone to collect you the morning after a night out, because the fam doesn’t believe in the walk of shame.
46. You have family trips to the cinema.
47. Drive Thru McFLurries are a frequent treat.
48. You reassure one another that you’re not going to fail college and that it’ll all be grand.
49. Youve discussed all getting jobs in the same place after you graduate so you can live together forever and ever.
50. You love the absolute bones off one another and wouldn’t change a single thing.


Becky, Susie, Orla, Niamh, Catrina, Saoirse and Megan, thanks for being the most wonderful housemates and friends. Here’s to many more mishaps, mistakes and memories. May the nights be long and the hangovers short!

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Why it’s okay to be a 20 something who has absolutely no idea where they’re going in life 

This morning I wake to a Facebook timeline full of kids starting school and friends graduating university.  And where am I when the whole world seemes to be reaching their various individual milestones? Rolling over in bed at 11:52 having pressed ‘snooze’ for the umpteenth time because I’ve absolutely nothing to do, and all day to do it.  The other day my three year old nephew started playschool. Playschool. He’s going to be driving and banking before I know it.  So here I am surrounded by different people at very distinct stages in life, feeling like I’m in somewhat of a limbo. Thankfully I’ve long passed the sniffling – yoghurt down the front of my uniform- school days (yes I was that kid), but with a year left of college I have yet to reach the pinnacle of ‘Adulthood’

 So where exactly does that leave me? A 22 year old broke student fearing the impending future and still depending on the B.O.D (Bank of Daddy).  It’s weird, you grow up with this picture perfect ideal of your 20’s. You think you’ll have your life together. You imagine yourself with a degree, a successful career, a long term relationship, a couple of pets ( a fish, a cat whatever your responsibility level can handle), and a nice apartment.  Yet here I am, with none of those things, no idea where I’m going and still dribbling toothpaste down myself in the mornings, afternoons. (Some things never change).

Why are we led to believe that our 20’s are the ‘successful together’ years of our lives? Why aren’t we shown how it really is? Like budgeting in terms of the cheapest bottle of wine? (I know that’s not just me!) or binge watching entire TV series just to live vicariously through the Carrie Bradshaws and Harvey Spectors of the world.

There are so many soul crushing truths that no one tells you about being in your 20’s. Like for instance how you’re just not able to drink like your former 16 year old self. Those glory days are over my friend. You can’t drink that paint stripper wine anymore, but you can’t quite afford the good stuff yet.

You’re technically an adult, but more “adult adults” (i.e adults who are better at adulting than you) for instance snobby receptionists and land lords, don’t take you seriously, resulting in you still having to get your parents involved. Who knew making a dental appointment could be such an ordeal.. 

Then you have all the questions surrounding your future. Just this evening my uncle asked me “so what will ya be now when ya graduate? A journalist?” Resisting the urge to scream “I don’t fucking know okay?!” I sallowed my fear along with my spuds and decided it was just easier to smile and nod the appropriate response. Why isn’t “I’m not sure?” an appropriate answer though? Why does there have to be so much residual panic around it? It’s like if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing or where you’re going you can’t help but feel like a waste of space. Earlier my friend tweeted this and it is the most accurate thing I’ve seen all day: 

  

Mine is yellow for the record. But seriously, at five years old when they asked what I wanted to be when I grew up I had no idea. Now that I am grown up I still have no fucking idea. But I’m slowly becoming more content with that fact. It’s such an awkward transitionary stage that no one prepares you for. But I suppose that’s the key word. Transitionary. I’m still learning to accept that it’s okay for me not to have my shit together. It’s okay for me to rock up to a family wedding dateless and drink two-too many shots. It’s okay for me to experience crippling panic whenever anyone asks me “so what are you doing with your life?”

                                  
 Despite the fear and trying to find your feet, when it comes down to it your 20’s is the best decade of your life. 

This is probably the only time in my life I’ll get to share a house with 6 other girls. The only time it’ll be acceptable for me to sleep until noon. The only time I can just go and live in Barcelona for the summer because I’ve no other obligations. 

So to all my fellow 20-something’s I would encourage you to drink too much, buy the lipstick, travel when you can, make your mistakes and laugh at every little bump along the way. Because heavens knows your 30s are more than likely going to be filled with bills, loans, dirty nappies and sleepless nights (and not the kind you’re currently used to!)

  
 

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The various stages of studying for exams

It’s so hard to believe it’s that time of the year again. Exam season. It seems like just yesterday we were all in an intoxicated haze loving life at RAG week. If you’re in the same boat as me chances are your RAG week extended into Paddy’s day,various thirsty thursdays, then Raceday and so on. Basically you haven’t been in college properly since week 6, conveniently and blissfully ignoring the latter half of the semester. Sure be grand right?
Except now it’s week 13, you’ve a mountain of assignments and exams are looming. Chances are you are now experiencing the various stages of study meltdown. Rather than actually face everything I have to do in the limited time I have to do it, I’ve decided to further procrastinate by outlining these stages.

So here we go:

1. Self Hatred
hate myself
The woe-is-me why am I such a waster stage. Was it really that hard to get up for that Friday 10am? If you had have just been good like you promised yourself at the start of the semester none of this would be happening. But it’s too late, you’ve missed too many lectures. You hate yourself, and you irrationally hate every smart do-gooder that isn’t experiencing this. (Here’s looking at you mature students). Next semester will be better..

2.Denial
woody
Look maybe it won’t be that bad? Sure you’ve still a good two weeks, that’s plenty of time. If you lock yourself in to the library and literally go hell for leather it’s going to be so fine.. Yeah..you got this..

3. Procrastination
ill-start-tomorrow kim
Write one line of essay, scroll twitter, facebook and instagram for hours. Write one line of essay, repeat. Time is ticking away and all the productive promises you made yourself are quickly vanishing. Ah sure you might as well clean the house so you have a nice relaxing environment to study in. Fast forward and it’s six hours later, the gaff is clean, you’ve rang mammy, watched 4 episodes of Game of Thrones, googled the meaning of life and thought really seriously about joining the circus. Sure look it’s too late to do anything now anyway, fresh start tomorrow morning 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

4.Anger

not fair
You’ve finally decided to tackle the unavoidable. Sulis is open and so are 12 weeks of power-points each containing a minimum of 45 slides each. Wtf when did they teach us this? You know you missed a few weeks but there was no way any of this shit was on the module outline. Why are you even in college anyway? All of this stuff is irrelevant, the education system is a joke. The country is a joke, everything is just a joke. Sure weren’t Steve Jobs and Bill Gates drop outs? Everything is so unfair.

5.Comfort Eating
giphy
A justifiable stage all on it’s own. Food releases happy endorphins which are beneficial for study purposes. Eating yourself into an absolute food coma is completely and totally necessary. Aside from the old bag on the till in dunnes, no one is judging you. Just don’t bring anything noisy and disgusting into the library. 🙂


6.Bargaining

begging
You’ve reached a stage of desperation and deliriousness. You’ve started to bargain with the powers that be because you’ve realised just how thoroughly fucked you are. You’re begging God, Buddah, Allah, mother nature, every divine inspiration you can think of to just let you pass. You can’t disappoint the rents, you’ll be skinned alive. All the money they pumped into your third level education.. You know you haven’t been to mass since great aunt Mary’s funeral but you swear you’ll start going of a Sunday. You’ll give up drinking, you’ll volunteer, feck it you’ll even sell a kidney at this stage.

7.Feeling sorry for yourself
crying
In between shlugs of energy drinks in the library silently sighing to yourself, wishing you were anywhere but the second floor silent zone. Life is bleak..hope is fading..weep on.

8.Panic
ron panic
You thought you were too composed, calm and collected to reach this stage. Oh no you weren’t going to panic, you had complete control of the situation… Well my friend you’ve managed to waste away two weeks talking about studying and not actually doing it. You now have permission to enter full on panic mode. No amount of bargaining will save you now.

9. The All Nighter
chandler
Nothing for it now, just going to have to sacrifice sleep and become a night owl. It’s your own fault so better buy a six pack of red bull, sellotape your eyes open, and hope that scientific experts are wrong when they say late night cramming is futile..

10. Acceptance
homer
You’ve gone through all the agonizing stages and you’re nearly at the finishing line. You’ve come to accept that what will be will be. You take a deep breath and enter the exam hall to meet your fate. (Nanny has lit the obligatory candle just in case).