She

First female football player in the village
Had her hat pulled off
Revealing the long blonde hair
That she was comfortable with
Yanked it out of the hand
Putting it back on
Without missing a beat
Fresh out of school
Straight into a job
Helping people and scrubbing floors
Until she was told that’s all she’ll ever be
So she got up and quit
Booked a ticket to Australia
Without telling her father
Returned home to join the force
Meeting like minded people
Who wanted to help and have fun
Being told she was too manly for a man
Becoming an overachiever
Leaving the place with a future husband
Defying gender roles
Without denying her womanhood

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Inspired by the Red Door

I never lived in a cold house
The rooms were always vibrant
The walls was never bare
Each spot held a different memory

My mother wanted a silver kitchen
So she painted over the oak wood
On a weekend dad was working
My neighbours stood horrified at the door
My father stood with disbelief at first
But couldn’t help but laugh
And decided to change our kitchen

I always liked the wood
And fond yellow memories remind me of it
But I was old enough to remember the process of building a new kitchen
And celebrating my dads birthday in the dogs room
Instead of the room that was under construction

To match the walls came a bright red door
Did I say match?
Sorry, no
It matched nothing
It still matches nothing
It’s been eleven years

I remember at age six thinking she was insane
All my clothes had to match in colour scheme
I was never seen without a handbag to match my shoes
My nails also had a dash of the colour I was wearing
So why on earth would she want a red door?
But that was not the start nor the end of random objects

Also in the kitchen was a giant silver whale
Hung on the wall almost two meters wide
Never really questioned by anyone
The story of how my parents were so broke
But mum wanted the whale
Well… we all know how the red door happened
This isn’t much different

But my home isn’t just filled with things
It’s filled with memories

Pots of flowers my aunt grew on the window sill
Buddah powered by the sun that my sister bought
The postcard wall from cousins, friends, family
Fake bonsai tree
Crystal whisky set unused
Yellow sunshine quotes
Birthday cards
Always a radio

I never thought these items had much effect on me
Until I reflected on my own home
With bunting
Birthday Decorations
Postcards
Handmade crafts
And a radio

In my own house today
With three friends I adore
I still believe I’m inspired
By the quirky fire red door

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Explaining the concept of blogging to my Mom…

As you can probably guess from the tone of my title, this didn’t go as swiftly as it should have. I know I know my parents grew up in a different time with no internet but they haven’t adapted that well to the wonders of what the internet can do! Ok yes, I accept that because of their jobs and just being parents in general they’d see most social networking sites as a way for people to access everything about you. However, this is the minority of what the world wide web has to offer. But nope, to them the only good thing about it is being able to look up news when ever they want…

So back to my original title. For some strange reason today, my mum took an interest in asking me about blogging. I had forgotten I had told her about owning a blog (which I did a few months back) but she seemed to remember. (I just never gave her the name so she was never really interested in it.) She asked me about how people see other blogs and I tried explaining ‘tags’ to her. For example, I said if I wrote a piece on my recent holidays to Spain, I’d tag #Spain #Summer #Europe and related info on my blog. The usual standard stuff. It then took me ages to tell her that if some randomer across the ocean decided to type in ‘Spain Blog’, my blog would not be on top of the list. (Obviously because I’m not that popular of a blogger…yet ;D). She couldn’t understand this. She then asked me why people would want others looking at their blogs online. She phrased it somehow of how she was totally comfortable with reading someone else’s blog, but if anyone read anything she would ever put up she’s probably sue them in some way. (Mums logic, don’t ask). I tried ever so hard to explain that people want others to see their blog. (She couldn’t grasp this at all). So I had to use examples she could relate to like; reporters wanting the public to read their articles, singers wanting the public to hear their talent and stories like these. But nope, she accepted the fact that she would never be able to understand it.
*Cue frustration here*
However, somewhere in that mind she decided she wants me to work at Google.
Moral of the story….? Don’t bring it up again ;D

Thank You Mum ♥

A letter to my mother. 

Dearest Mumsie Wumsie, 
I’m writing this letter to thank you for all the times you’ve made me smile. I love how no one can be around you without laughing with you. I love how you’re the ray of sunshine in my life, and I can only hope I’m anything like you. You know never to cross the line, but can still make me laugh no matter what. But one thing I have to tell you….you have no sense of fashion whatsoever. 😀 But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you wear black with navy. I don’t care you’ve never worn daily make up. I don’t care you hardly know what make up is. I don’t care you think my eyelash curler is totally unnecessary and painful. I don’t care if you wear a ridiculously unflattering outfit. And I don’t care about these things because you don’t care. As long as we’re healthy, and comfortable, and happy what is there to care about? I love the stories that you tell. I love the stories you tell of me to others. I love how any situation can be helped by tea. I actually like helping you figure out how to work technology. I like knowing that in some small way, I can teach you something for once. I may not be the best with volunteering to do chores without making a huge “how great am I” scene, but I still like knowing that helped you in some way. I love how you’re not too strict. You know I collapse under pressure- even though I can now hide it too well. I love how you don’t lock me in my room and force me to study because you know I actually like to learn and can only do so at my own pace. I love how all you hear about the internet is about cyber bullying and things like that yet I never get a time limit on the laptop. I love how you know how much I love escaping into this world where YouTube can reassure me and teach me things (like make up DIY videos) that you couldn’t. I love how you try show an interest in things I like, even if that makes you endure the whole story of Wuthering Heights, or listening to a band that isn’t your style. And I think it’s hilarious how much you say you love the dog more than me, because who couldn’t? 
In conclusion, I love you. In every way possible. You are my sunshine. 
Love, (your favourite daughter), Eimear. xoxo