Hello readers.
It's Saturday, I'm still kind of sick, I have done no homework, I have school on Monday, I'm now a writer on a video game, I got a bloglovin', it's Saturday. Just another regular day in the life of Kate.
Firstly I'm becoming anxious because I'm behind on school work as I have been sick and have done nothing all week.
Secondly I'm getting anxious because I'm now a writer on a fucking video game??? How did this happen, I hear you ask. You promised us you were as big a screw up as the rest of us, Kate, how did you get a job, what a sell-out!
Long story short a friend of mine told me about a game project he was working on and then mentioned that they needed a scriptwriter. I talked to the group leader and now I'm a scriptwriter wow, how the fuck - that was really fast - help! You can probably tell I'm a bit worried because I have practically no experience with scriptwriting or even gaming really so I'm fucking terrified. But it's going to be okay and I'm going to try my best and I'm not going to freak out. Yet.
If you have a BlogLovin' account you can follow me there. I've jumped on the band wagon and gotten a bloglovin' account because I want to read more blogs and I think this is a really great method of keeping track of them.
I feel like I don't really have anything to say in this post. I want to start writing blog posts that are interesting or helpful to people, I just don't really have an area of expertise. I'm failing at being a teenager, failing at being an adult and up until now I seem to have failed at being a writer. Not that I've 'made it' now or anything. We'll see.
Saturday 22 February 2014
Sunday 16 February 2014
Lifescouts - CPR
If you don't already know what Lifescouts is I will quickly summarise it for you now. Alex Day is a YouTuber-Musician-Entrepreneur who came up with the idea of creating goals and rewarding the achievement of said goals with badges. That's it basically.
If you still don't understand then here is a video from Alex himself explaining it.
I think it's the coolest idea ever but I'm so uncommitted to life that I never got into it when he announced it last year. This year, along with my plan to blog more I want to take part in Lifescouts. Without further ado, here is my first post about Lifescouts. (I've said Lifescouts too much now.)
Last year my school provided me the opportunity to complete a First Aid course which, as I remember, took a whole school day. We had one trained professional and a trainee (who spent most of the time standing/sitting by the window looking bored) explain the theory to us and then we were invited to practice on a special manikin who's chest moved as you applied pressure to it. After the course I did not feel qualified to perform CPR on a dog let alone a human being. This had as much to do with the limited experience I gained as it did to do with the trainer telling us every half an hour that if he were asked whether he wanted someone to perform CPR on him in a life-threatening situation, he would say no. As well as him lecturing us on the amount of deaths and broken ribs and subsequent punctured lungs people have received due to CPR. So if I am ever in a restaurant with you (you being a handsome prince charming who I have never met, sitting on the other side of the room) and I am choking on a bone, please don't come to my rescue. It's quite unnecessary.
All of this of resulted in no-one in my year ever receiving a certificate as we were promised. Now, not only are we completely unqualified in First Aid but we don't even have a piece of paper to put on our CV and make us look more worldly. Fuck you Transition Year you taught me nothing and took all my money.
#twopostsinoneday #proud
What's New
Firstly let me apologise for my last blog post. I was really tired that night and it got really weird so if you haven't read it yet I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't. I have an excuse for the state of this post too: I'm sick.
I woke up yesterday, the first day of my midterm break, with a stomach ache and a chest pain like my lungs had been pumped full of smoke over night. My head felt like a herd of elephants had trampled over it and my throat was as raw as a turkey on Christmas Eve. I got up and drank a glass of orange juice while I waited for the kettle to boil for a mug of Lemsip. After drinking that I returned to bed and fell straight back asleep. An hour or two later I woke and went to the toilet and then immediately vomited the contents of my stomach (orange juice and Lemsip) into the toilet.
If I haven't driven all of my readers away by now with these last two blog posts I don't know how I'll ever get rid of you. Suffice to say I still feel like shit and I'm going to Belfast tomorrow morning. It's mainly just my chest and throat that hurts now but they are bad enough to make me never want to leave my bed again.
I have so many blog posts in my head that I need to type out and some one paper that I need to transfer to my computer. How am I so bad at following schedules?? I really want my own laptop. I think that would be really helpful...and now I'm just typing my train of thought and it's all over the place. I ought to wrap this up before I make it even weirder than the last.
(P.S. I'm not being sponsored by Lemsip or by Lemsip's competition. Though I'd be happy to continue either promoting or degrading their product if anyone feels like paying me. Also any kind of job whatsoever I'd be interested in. Okay bye now.)
I woke up yesterday, the first day of my midterm break, with a stomach ache and a chest pain like my lungs had been pumped full of smoke over night. My head felt like a herd of elephants had trampled over it and my throat was as raw as a turkey on Christmas Eve. I got up and drank a glass of orange juice while I waited for the kettle to boil for a mug of Lemsip. After drinking that I returned to bed and fell straight back asleep. An hour or two later I woke and went to the toilet and then immediately vomited the contents of my stomach (orange juice and Lemsip) into the toilet.
If I haven't driven all of my readers away by now with these last two blog posts I don't know how I'll ever get rid of you. Suffice to say I still feel like shit and I'm going to Belfast tomorrow morning. It's mainly just my chest and throat that hurts now but they are bad enough to make me never want to leave my bed again.
I have so many blog posts in my head that I need to type out and some one paper that I need to transfer to my computer. How am I so bad at following schedules?? I really want my own laptop. I think that would be really helpful...and now I'm just typing my train of thought and it's all over the place. I ought to wrap this up before I make it even weirder than the last.
(P.S. I'm not being sponsored by Lemsip or by Lemsip's competition. Though I'd be happy to continue either promoting or degrading their product if anyone feels like paying me. Also any kind of job whatsoever I'd be interested in. Okay bye now.)
Saturday 1 February 2014
Mass Go-ers
Despite the disadvantages of having parents who insist that atheism is a 'phase', going to mass can be interesting if you have the right mindset.
There is an elderly woman of about seventy-five years who normally sits in the row behind my family with her son and his family. She has an unbelievable lack of discretion. Not only does she fart loudly and at a consistent rate throughout the thirty minute service but she also has so little refinement when it comes to whispering. A normal person would speak more quietly than she hisses in her attempt to appear subtle. I'm certain that on more than one occasion the priest on the altar has overheard her hushed conversation. Last week our recently retired parish priest returned to say the service. He had barely taken two steps out of the sacristy when from behind me this woman almost yells, "It's Father Treacy!!"
I jumped at the unexpectedness of this outburst and couldn't retain a snort of laughter, which I later felt bad for. Honestly, she makes my night every Saturday.
Another favourite mass go-er of mine is a woman of about sixty who always sits at the side of the church, always one row in front of the others behind her. She sits alone every week and according to my dad's boundless information on everyone in our parish she has never married and lives alone. She wears perfectly round glasses that are ever so slightly tinted. Almost John Lennon-esque. (Basically these glasses)
To me she seems like such an interesting person and I'd love to be friends with her. I can imagine her being really beautiful when she was younger and for a woman of her age she still is. She's beautiful in such an effortless way as though she doesn't even realise it or perhaps she does but doesn't see a reason to emphasise it. Her khaki trousers, sweater and hiking boots wouldn't accentuate most peoples attractive features. Somehow though it displays her beauty more clearly, in the same way that putting a photo against a white background allows you to appreciate the colours more efficaciously.
This wasn't meant to be a blog about how beautiful old woman can be....I don't know how this happened.
The point of that tangent was that last week she said a reading during the mass service. Bear in mind this is a woman who has sat alone in church my whole life. I've never seen or heard her speak so the last thing I expected was for her to stand up in front of a church full of people and read. She seemed only a little bit nervous. She had such a lovely, enrapturing voice that I, who normally zones out as soon as the mass begins, was mesmerised. It's such a pity that she doesn't read more often because our parish is very lacking in good orators.
I feel like this post was building up to something and it just never got there. What an anticlimax, I apologise.
*Any names used have been altered to protect the privacy of the persons in question.*
There is an elderly woman of about seventy-five years who normally sits in the row behind my family with her son and his family. She has an unbelievable lack of discretion. Not only does she fart loudly and at a consistent rate throughout the thirty minute service but she also has so little refinement when it comes to whispering. A normal person would speak more quietly than she hisses in her attempt to appear subtle. I'm certain that on more than one occasion the priest on the altar has overheard her hushed conversation. Last week our recently retired parish priest returned to say the service. He had barely taken two steps out of the sacristy when from behind me this woman almost yells, "It's Father Treacy!!"
I jumped at the unexpectedness of this outburst and couldn't retain a snort of laughter, which I later felt bad for. Honestly, she makes my night every Saturday.
Another favourite mass go-er of mine is a woman of about sixty who always sits at the side of the church, always one row in front of the others behind her. She sits alone every week and according to my dad's boundless information on everyone in our parish she has never married and lives alone. She wears perfectly round glasses that are ever so slightly tinted. Almost John Lennon-esque. (Basically these glasses)
To me she seems like such an interesting person and I'd love to be friends with her. I can imagine her being really beautiful when she was younger and for a woman of her age she still is. She's beautiful in such an effortless way as though she doesn't even realise it or perhaps she does but doesn't see a reason to emphasise it. Her khaki trousers, sweater and hiking boots wouldn't accentuate most peoples attractive features. Somehow though it displays her beauty more clearly, in the same way that putting a photo against a white background allows you to appreciate the colours more efficaciously.
This wasn't meant to be a blog about how beautiful old woman can be....I don't know how this happened.
The point of that tangent was that last week she said a reading during the mass service. Bear in mind this is a woman who has sat alone in church my whole life. I've never seen or heard her speak so the last thing I expected was for her to stand up in front of a church full of people and read. She seemed only a little bit nervous. She had such a lovely, enrapturing voice that I, who normally zones out as soon as the mass begins, was mesmerised. It's such a pity that she doesn't read more often because our parish is very lacking in good orators.
I feel like this post was building up to something and it just never got there. What an anticlimax, I apologise.
*Any names used have been altered to protect the privacy of the persons in question.*
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