The Smirk- extremely short story

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The smell of stale coffee filled the air. Although there was a few eager faces around, most of the single people in the room looked exactly like me. . . bored. The flower in the middle of the table even looked sad. I stroked it’s weak leaf, which felt quite rough on my fingers. The bell went for another round and I gave a polite reply to the poor guy who had to endure my boredom for the past one hundred and forty seven seconds.

“Is this seat taken?” A husky voice asked me. I stopped stroking the sad leaf and looked up at my next victim.

I faked a smile.

“No, go ahead.” I indicated.

He was taller than me, which was unusual. Having two parents as part of the marines sometimes didn’t always work in my genes favour. On the plus side, I never got bullied in school. I looked up again when I realised we hadn’t said anything to each other.

“No, don’t mind me. Go ahead.” He told me while lightly touching his attempt of a beard.

I shot him a confused look and he laughed.

“You’re a writer. I can tell.” He told me. It was now my turn to laugh.

“I’d hate to date a writer. They never pay attention to anything but the failure of a novel they’re trying to perfect.”

“Nah, that’s only men.” He informed me, and took a sip of his stale smelling coffee.

“Is it? I’ve never dated a woman writer.” I informed him with a smirk.

“Yes it is. A man will sit here and then suddenly get an idea and rush off back home to his computer or notepad. A woman, however, will remember every detail. I bet you’ve already memorised your surrounding senses to maybe use for a later piece of writing.” He told me and I looked up at him, guilty.

“But if somehow I end up marrying this woman, she’ll be able to recall this day to our grandchildren like it was yesterday.”

I let him speak, intrigued as to what he had to say.

“A man will recite the same line,” He cleared his throat. “‘She walked through those two doors and I knew she was the one for me’.” He acted out.

The bell for the next round went, but we ignored it.

“It’s a cop out, pathetic..really.” He scoffed.

“But every woman believes it.” I offered.

“Because the most part is true. We all like to believe in love at first sight. That you don’t remember anything else happening because they were the one. But it’s a lie.”

“Women want to believe thats how it happens.” I took a sip of the coffee. I instantly regretted it after the taste filled my mouth.

“It could happen like that. But usually when it does, he remembers the scene like it was a movie playing before him”. He sat back in his chair a bit more. It was in that moment I realised I didn’t know his name, nor did he mine.

“The stale coffee, the sad foliage, the bored faces. I bet you made a mental note of all of this before I sat down.” He smirked.

“The handsome stranger smirked before me like he knew all the secrets of the universe.” I leaned in towards him.

My granddaughters eyes beamed like it did when the princess finally realises she loves the prince.

“Then what nana?” She urged me.

I looked over at the handsome stranger sixty years later. He stopped reading his newspaper and drooped his glasses towards us.

He smirked at me. “It turns out…. he did.”

 

 

It’s my birthday!

I haven’t had internet acess in DAYS which wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be! I’ve been inactive since Easter break started but I just wanted to let y’all know I’ve a new second blog which will probably feature most of my mind rambles! It’s Daily Dose of Glitter and it’s currently empty! Maybe I’ll actually do daily entries. Who knows!
But yes, I’m seventeen as of around 7am this morning! Woo! 
Also, I got sunburn on one patch on my nose. It looks quite funny. 

My shell

Everything I say 

Everything I do 

Everything I think of 

Was mirrored from you 

 

I watched and observed 

From a very young age 

But everything you said 

Just put me in a cage 

 

You wouldn’t think it bad 

To pass a judgement or the look

Yet every word you said 

Tore through me like a hook 

 

But then you left 

And I finally felt like me 

I could grow as myself 

My own individuality 

 

It felt fun for a while 

To make up my own mind 

No breaths down my neck

No judgement to find 

 

But you came back 

Like I was expecting 

But something else came back 

Your everything 

 

So everything you say 

And everything  you do 

Came back to me 

Like a judgemental flu 

 

And everything you did 

And everything you said 

Still felt like daggers and swords 

So I  retreated to my bed 

 

So I sit and I wait 

In my own little shell 

Hiding the person 

I knew so well 

 

Because you shaped me 

I am who I am 

But I am that person 

Because alone…I finally can 

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Home

It isn’t a random photo I just found online that serves as my banner photo on my blog. No, it’s much much more than that. 

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It represents freedom. The ocean is so huge, I can’t even comprehend it. The next stop from Donegal is America. (And as many times as we tried swimming there, no…it doesn’t work)

It represents friendship. See those three black bodies in the water waving their arms? Their two of my amazing friends who I’ve known since the womb. We don’t go to school together, so I never associate them with exams or pressure or stress. Every memory we’ve had together involves summer, sun, hills and water. They’re very like me. What you see is what you get, no point of useless drama and always honest. They’ve seen me from my very best to my very worst. 

It represents family. That’s what they are to me. That’s what the place is to me. If you could ever imagine a perfect utopia of happiness and bliss, I’ve found it. It’s where my ancestors are from. That very village. I’ve countless cousins and relatives up there who don’t care where anyone else has come from as they accept anyone with a kind heart. 

It represents nature. My heart aches to be near that sea. That sand, those hills, the rocks, the “boogyman’s castle”. Nothing else matters when you stare at the beauty of the world. Nothing else has to matter. 

It represents fun. And my goodness is it fun. There’s always been terrible coverage where we are, which caused a great thing called “imagination” to develop each summer. Whether it’s building our own go-karts and racing them down hills, or just playing hide and seek in the marshy landscape! We never wanted any more. 

It represents good. I’ve never experienced a bad day there. If I ever did, it would be a burden from where I had come from. This burden soon went away with a lil help from all my friends there. 

It represents stress-free. No school, no stress, no make up, no tight clothing, no designer clothing, no need to be the best, no need to be sad, no need to be worried… just the sense of completion. 

It represents happiness. From all the reasons above. 

It represents home. And you’ve no idea how much I miss it. 

Lateness, Orals and Drama (MindRambles#4)

This week wasn’t the smoothest for me, in all honesty.
I had a french oral, which was 20% of my over all test next June, and I still don’t know what to make of it.
The weekend before, I had a huuuge dramatic fight with one of my very close friends and we’re kind of only solving it now. It was over a boy she liked, that I seriously disapproved of, and had good reasons to. And I know, in theory, I technically have nothing to do with her love life, I do have something to do with her over all life, which I didn’t want to see fall apart. To anyone else coming to me with that situation, I’d obviously say let it play out. But with her. . . . I just couldn’t. Very long story short I had a mild break down with my other friends about 15 minutes before my french exam. This caused me to forget everything I had learnt off, and I was surviving on mere basics. However, the past is in the past and I know there is no point in over analysing what I did wrong. I have my Irish test on Monday, so wish me luck!

And yes, I know this is a day late, but I have no idea what I’m doing with my life besides surviving at the moment. As much as I would love to make this site into my whinging diary, I know it’s not. I want to be that blogger that people visit when they’re sad. I want to make you all happy, but I’m just not happy right now. I’m losing motivation each day, and I seriously need Easter Holidays to come faster. My head needs to stop hurting and I need to start sleeping more. It’s my birth month though…

“We are what we wear”

Have you ever looked at someones outfit and thought, ‘wow, what were they thinking this morning?’ I know I have. But the more you look at it, the more you start to understand it, and why they chose it. Maybe that blue jumper actually does ‘go’ with those red socks? Our clothing is a reflection of what we are feeling. To me, “we are what we wear”, can be summed up in the three C’s. Creativity. Career. Culture. These three c’s mould us into the person we present to the world. Just like a turtle in a shell, we can tell the world who we are! This is the way we can show a stranger on the street where we’ve come from, what we work at, and a glimpse of our personality; the most important aspects of our lives. In the words of Karl Lagerfeid;

“Fashion is a language that creates itself in clothes to interpret reality”

Anyone who looks back at their facebook during they early years of being a teenager will probably point out something in the picture which they cringe about. Why did I wear so much black make up? Did I actually think it was alright for my hair to look like that in public Trust me, I’ve been there. I’ve totally been there. But at the time it seemed ‘cool’. It seemed ‘the norm’, and it seemed like the ‘in thing’ to do. But do you know what I love most about those embarrassing photos? No one ever told me that I couldn’t plaster my eyes in eyeliner, or wear my hair as high as heaven. No one ever took away my right to look how I wanted to look. I can appreciate that right, because I know that others do not have it. Adolescence is about discovery and expression; learning from mistakes instead of repeating them, and smiling back at the judgemental people who don’t approve of your rainbow coloured socks.

As we grow older, we realise the harsh truth that having neon coloured hair won’t automatically give you a job because of your individuality. We begin to blend to bleak colours. Our uniform is all blue. But there’s nothing wrong with all blue as out uniform is not a sigh of oppression. It is a sign of equality. Likewise in the world of work. Army members have the trademark camouflage colour, and the guards have their signature ensemble. If you saw a civil servant on the street, you wouldn’t pity their lack of colour and rights. No, you would respect them straight away as they’re trying to make the world a better place. They are part of a functioning unit of people whose aim is for the greater good. Judging people on how they look doesn’t always have to be a negative thing. Wouldn’t you like praise if you spent your years abroad fighting for whats right? Wouldn’t you like respect for risking your life each day? Yes, we do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with being part of a community. There’s something wrong with people who negatively judge us.

Many of our habits stem from our parents, or who raised us. Our taste in music, maybe. Or food. And maybe even fashion. Is it true that our own culture contributes to our appearance? Of course it does! Some may wear the hijab according to their religion. Some may only wear dressed and skirts as that’s all they’ve known at home. Some may braid their hair like their ancestors did. Some may braid their hair like their ancestors did. Some may wear a certain hat because it was given to them by someone close to them. It’s irrelevant, but distinguishable. Our culture is such a huge part of who we are. So why shouldn’t we show it? We should all be proud of our roots. You could probably tell an American from a Brit. Their stanse, their hair, their style. Our heritage can be what defines us, if we want it to. We don’t have to shove it down each others throats, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t ignore it either. Because, as different as we all are, we are one race on this earth.

So maybe we are what we wear. But our styles can change, just like our personalities do. Maybe you regret wearing that jumper, but at the time you didn’t. Isn’t it so much better to have equality with our uniforms than it is to have unhealthy competition over clothes each day? And isn’t it a proud feeling when someone compliments your clothing or style? In actuality, they’re complimenting you. Your style. Your ability to express yourself. We can be anything, just like we can wear anything. In the wise words from a Lion King,

“One thing nothing can destroy is our pride deep inside we are one”

Soul Bread, Poles and Ukuleles (MindRambles#3)

I get volunteered for a lot of public speaking in my year, as I’m one of the few who can actually speak to a crowd, (which kind of worries me a bit that we all don’t have enough confidence to speak to each other). But yeah, I had to do a reading at mass. I know I’m not the most religious person in the world, but when your 8 month pregnant religion teacher asks you sweetly to read, you respect her and accept. It was a weird reading that was like, “it’s ok if you don’t have money, come and your soul will buy your food”, (except a little less casual than that…) A note to future self- read the readings before you go on the alter.

There was a group of us waiting for our bus one day last week. Usually we wait on the right side of the road, and then cross the road when our bus comes over the hill. On a relating note to the story, I had my hair down. Imagine Hermonie Grangers hair in first year. That’s basically mine. A brown wavy bush of a mess. Anyway, we were crossing the road and I was talking to my friend and before crossing the road, I heard a bang and wasn’t able to walk forward. Of course he started laughing, and I did too once I had realised what happened. I had walked into a pole without noticing as it was a windy day and the hair was in my eyes. He apologised straight away for laughing, but I couldn’t blame him. “The perks of having long hair” I say before we actually cross the road together to get the bus.

It was my cousins confirmation last Friday. I got out of school early for it (wooo). She had originally told us all she was taking my mothers name, but I told her that the best way to get the most money would be to pick our grandmothers name (who we never knew). I honestly did it just for a laugh, but when the day actually came she chose our grand mothers name. I was honestly shocked because when I asked why she did, she shrugged her shoulders and told me, “because you told me to.” It was a strange feeling, as I’ve never really been an authority figure for someone. Besides her, I’m the youngest girl cousin- so advice usually doesn’t come from me. I’ve also only ever been surrounded by older cousins, so it was just strange to me that she actually listened to what I had to say. I was kinda chuffed inside though.

It was my friends birthday last Saturday. Unfortunately, her great grand mother passed away that morning so we went over early to make her smile. The day before, one of my friend and I were skyping and decided to write our own lyrics to “If this is Love” by McFly and I’d play it on the ukulele. So we did, and it made her cry with joy. That made me feel happy.

My french oral is next Monday. I’m absolutely dreading it.

One of my friends in my group in school has decided to ignore us all- except me in Irish class when it’s only the two of us. I don’t know whether to take this as her being fake to me, or as a compliment as I’m the only one she likes. Still uncertain.

My teacher sent me on a wild goose chase to find cameras, chargers, keys and tripods today. I was annoyed about how unprepared she was for a speaker we had in.