I do not bat an eyelid.

Bursts of conversation.

«My stomach is a little upset, I don't know how good a sauce sounds. Maybe pizza...»

Sauce is carbonara, which I agree it's not good at all in such cases.

«Pizza then!»

Some people just deserve to crawl in their own pain and sorrow.

Lovely... Surprised.

There I was, every time someone asked me about what I was going to do on Christmas, I rolled my eyes to the sky and dressed with a smile I just answered «Home, I work on 24th and 26th too. Going to cook something, all done with pressies.»

If there's something nobody can change on me it's my pessimism. 

Actually it's most likely my motto: be prepared for the worst.

So, while I was there, ready for the second shitty Christmas in a row, here you go, Fate surprised me breaking the bad chain.

Or maybe it was my attitude.

I decided to have a really good time and no matters who was going to ruin it and how, I fucking had it.

Christmas tablecloth, red candle in the middle, a load of cakes, turkey and ham, salmon, salami, cheese and dips, tons of chocolate, this year I spent a fortune.

All worth.

Two relaxing and funny days with Lolly and my partner. I was so into the festive spirit I even wanted to go seeing the mass on Christmas Eve, regardless I'm not religious at all. Amazing. I even liked what the priest said, beyond the lord-stuff. I don't really recall if I've ever been on a mass like that. Just a bit disappointed there was no gospel and no children outside the church singing carrolls.

But everything has been sweet and pleasant, even the 4 hours and half game at Risk! on St. Stephen's Day where I miserably and shamelessly lost. I'm calling for revenge, sweet revenge, tho.

But, above of all, me and my Camera received the most beautiful gift we could: a bag. Now she's protected and safe from the Irish weather.

Yes, what a lovely Christmas!

A matter of accent.

Honestly, even if I record me, I'm not sure if I'm able to tell what the hell of an accent I got.

Clearly, must sound foreign. 

Each time I open my mouth with someone new, the question "where are you from" comes out.

I've been told a lot of nationalities and (fortunally) Italian has never been mentioned.

Scandinavian, French, Dutch, American, an old drinking-friend and my auctioneer say I'm getting the Wicklow accent but... weirdest of all...

Today, a regular customer told me I speak like a Dubliner.

WTF???

I swear, I don't frequent any Dubliner. There are no Dubliners at work. I don't know about any customer from there.

What I simply do is carefully listening to my co-workers (the most of them from Wicklow), Chef (who's Welsh, his accent deserves an award) and (surprise surprise) British shows (speak like Tim Roth and I'm gonna marry you!) and I try to repeat the same sound.

But, seriously, even if I spend 10 years trying over and over again, after 39 speaking Italian as first language, I won't ever, ever, ever be able to speak with that lovely London accent.

I just can say I coined my personal one: The Claire's Accent.

My lovely Christmas hat.

Last month I got a knit Christmas hat at Heatons. I found it at the men compartment and I paid it just €5.

It has been love at first sight.

I didn't care it was for men, I just must have had it.

I didn't even expect all this success, honestly.

Whoever I meet, compliments me for it.

Collegues, bosses, customers, even the man I spoke with at the bank.

Everybody loves it as much as I do. Best purchase ever indeed.

But the sweetest has been Chef today. I call him "Grumpy" cos he has this arsehole mask, always pissed off with everything and everybody. Like that once I asked him how was going and when he said "grand" I asked who was dead... You get the typo.

«Santa helper,» he said, «You look like an Elf!»

«I'm cute!» I said back at him.

«Yes, you are!»

*melting*

Lil things 2.

I'm an insecure. Fact.

I don't want words, I need actions.

When I get a message late in the night from my boss that says I'm not a pain in the arse after I threw the stone, I know he's genuine and he really likes me. Expecially if I already know he's drunk at that time.

When I see the light in the eye of the new manager who wants me to join him in his new plans and events, I know he's sincere.

Body language.

Unless you're a psycho, you can't lie with your body.

That's what keeps me in this job, regardless I can get more and better elsewhere.

People.

Sincere feelings.

Not everybody can understand that.

Sometimes, money doesn't matter.

Letter to Santa.

Dear Santa,

I have no many things to ask, but I understand it's not easy to please me.

So...

This year, can you just bring me someone who looks after me and really cares? I'm tired of being alone...

Like a child on Christmas.... Time.

I remember when we were children, the teacher at school made us draw something for Christmas to bring it home and give it to our parents. A kind of child-hand-made Christmas card that Ma' and Da' hung on the wall or on the fridge, ready to be shown to whoever visited the house.

35 years later...

My digital child-mouse-made postcard is hung at the bar!!!

Off the World.

This morning I was having my usual break, mug on hand, crunching butter cookies and one eye at Sky Sport News.

I must live out of the world because just today I realised the World Cup 2014 will be placed in Brazil. 

I know, if Jay could, he would slap me on the back of my neck. He's so into sport stuff. 

Sorry, Luv, if we were in touch as before, I'd probably have known it a bit earlier than the 3rd December 2013 :P

Anyway, suddenly all the news I read before about disorders in that country on the cost of tickets make sense now. 

Italy and Brazil are so similar about football. The World Cup is the only event that make Italian people patriotic. It's the only time, every 4 years, you can see the tricolour flag everywhere: roofs, balconies, cars, shoulders. It's perfect if you have to get home after work during a match in 1/3 of the "normal" time cos nobody is on the road. They're all with their noses tacked on telly.

Ha, the World Cup.

Let's hope France won't be helped again against Ireland from some gobshite referee as it happened the last time.

Now, pardon me, I have to press the flag.

Little things.

Little beautiful things, the ones unexpected. Those ones that warm your heart.

«Why you weren't here last night, Claire?»

Because I thought nobody cared.

I was wrong. Happy to be wrong sometimes.

Thanks W.

Christmas time!

This year, windows around the town have been decorated soon after Halloween. Needless saying how amazed I was. Last Saturday there have been the ceremony for the lighting up, with Santa Claus and a sort of sleigh.
Believe me, the town was stuffed with people. I couldn't even move and while waiting for an old man to pass before me in a really narrow space, a tall woman with a child on her shoulder looked at me with anger blowing out something like «I've been here before you!». I didn't even say a word, once the old man passed by, I continued my walk out of the crowd.

Christmas time, then. When everybody's happy and supposed to be nice and kind.

I bloody love this time of the year, I always wonder why they don't start at the first cold and allow us to keep lights and decorations till Spring.

Anyway, today I went out to get a pack of fags and I stopped at the local newsagent. Fate wanted Santa Claus was there too and... guess what? He gave me a lollipop!!! He must have seen I'm still a child. He made my day. I got out of the shop with a such happiness I barely touched the ground. Little things I love.

I got another satisfaction from the owner of the place I work at. Dropped down with a print of my last creation, he and the manager that was with him looked at it with that light in their eyes that you already know they like it but you have to ask anyway.

«I like everything you do, Claire,» said the owner.

I love that man. He doesn't talk that much but when he does...

Yes, Christmas. I'm already into it.

My last creation for The Bridge. Illustrator + Photoshop.

Lost.

Suddenly jumped on old memories. Fault of a song I didn't listen to for ages. 

Time spent on my old (and closed) blog writing down misadventures, feelings, moods, venting. Not that much different from this one, but that blog... It has been my public journal for four years. 

I remember there wasn't a day I didn't think «once at home, I absolutely have to write this!»

A nice addiction, indeed.

I realized I miss it. As I miss the platform on which it was hosted.

As I miss the person who wrote on it every day and night.

Single. Pissed off. Asocial. Sarcastic. Acid. Atheist. Unbearable. Vindictive. Pungent. Alcoholic. Bossy. Selfish. Ikean.

I promise to myself, this is the last time that I lose my mind and allow someone else to control my life. 

Weekdays.

Regardless today I got scared because I found some blood in Lolly's tears, I found out that I'm one of the few persons in the world who loves Mondays.

Actually I love every day from Monday to Friday.

I don't even feel my work hard as before.

I got satisfations from it and nice people to spend time with, whether is working or spare time.

Lolly's ok, by the way. A bit shocked from her first time at the Vet, she even scratched her pinky nose on the carrier. The Vet found her healthy and the blood that scared me was probably just a cold. But now, finally, she's vaccinated too.

In the end, not that bad day. 

And I still have another four days to enjoy before the bloody weekend.

Yes, I definitely love Mondays.

Tip of the day.

Never trust a cute guy. They lean on that and avoid to develope any other value.

Grumbling.

You know that old saying about you never know what you have until you lose it.

How many of us, actually, apply it?
Very few, I guess.

I'm used to grumbles and complaints because my mother is unable to do anything else. Last Christmas I sent her a postcard with the subliminal message "Learn to enjoy what you have and don't care of what you haven't".

Personally, I really have few things to complain about. 

But when I do, it means that I really care. 

Usually I complain about care, attention, respect from the ones I love.

The day I quit doing it, it's the day I already moved on and I don't care anymore.

At that point, it's too late. 

Even to fix it. 

I mean, what else do people expect after ignoring signs and symptoms?

Adventure's spirit.

Episode no 1.

I bought my new camera with the precious help of a friend, Brendan, who shares with me the same love for photography. He suggested me where to buy it at the best price and he's teaching me how to use it.

Going from a normal digital camera to a DSLR is a nice step, but complicated if you have no notions about aperture, shutter speed and ISO. I always used pre-settings and Auto mode, trying to get the best from those till it wasn't enough anymore.

I really enjoy my new "toy" but I'm still at the beginning.

Anyway.

He was heading on his own to a place called Coronation Plantation for a local contest for the new 2014 Calendar and he needed to get a good shot for it. So he asked me if I wanted to join him with my camera. A chance that I didn't miss.

I had no idea that there still are such wild natural spots around in this County, marvellous and almost untouched.

To reach the spot he planned we needed to go through a kind of cold savana filled with hidden, dangerous puddles and crossing a small river walking on wet and slipping rocks.

I think I haven't done something like that since I was a child. Glad to see that my 41 years old body is not aware of its age and I managed such path (which is empty of paths, actually) with me back at home in one piece.

The day after I was all an ache, but trust me, it has been fully worth.

I even saw deer in their natural habitat. 

One word.

Amazing!

Now, let me heal and then I'll be ready for the next one.

This is Brendan's shoot of the Coronation Plantation. Standing Ovation...

Guinness Lake, so called due to the colour of its water.

Roundwood Plant Pump. Really an original way to cover it.

Among the Wicklow Mountains

This house looks like a Castle. Colours around it are simply stunning.

Bren told me those two are the most photographed trees of the County. I asked why, 'Cos they're in the middle of the fucking nothing!', so here's my shoot.

Be careful of what you say.

These language issues are driving me mental. I absolutely need to change example.

Chef did me a coffee today. He hit the wrong button on the espresso machine and my cup ended out half empty (don't look at me in that way, my cup is never half full!). So he hit the button again and I got a double coffee.

«If today I get anxious, you already know why,» I said.

«Don't say "anxious",» he corrected me.

«Nervous....»

«Nervous either,» again with a teasing smile, before adding «If you say "anxious" it turns to mean "randy".»

Definitely the last thing I meant.

«Bitchy!»

Bloody US shows!

One less on my wishlist.

In the end I've done it. 

I bled myself to death but now I'm the happy owner of a Canon EOS 700D.

The world is MINE!!! 

Flight of fancy.

It's like when you throw a stone into the water. Whether you do it to find relief from your thoughts or just for fun, the stone creates circles on the surface, which expand till disappearing.

I'm looking at those circles, wondering why they're there. What's beyond them.

I'm thinking of them even if a good part of me is saying I don't have any reason to.

But in the end, the question is there and I can't dispel it.

Is it now the right time?

Nasty dreams.

Tonight I dream of a threesome with Jack and Jim.

Loop.

And today, this quote doesn't want to get out of my mind.

«How do you go on when in your heart, you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold.»

[Frodo Baggins - The Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King] 

Tonight...

...I definitely need a drink.

In craziness... we trust.

I'm really a particular person.

Sometimes I joke saying I got OCD, sometimes I really wonder if it's not Asperger, often I just think I'm methodically tidy.

For example.

My DVDs, CDs and books are all in alphabetical order and when it occurs they're from the same author/band/singer, I order them by date of release.

When I was younger and I still had a piggy bank I did the same with the serial letters and numbers of notes.

My laundry on the rack has always the same order, with pegs of different colour depending of which kind of clothes they are (ie. green for socks, red for panties, blue for bras, etc.).

Everything has its own place and if someone moves it from that position:
A. I notice it as soon as I see it.

B. It drives me mental, of course.

I live with this my own way of being since I have memory, and even if my desktop looks chaotic I always know what's on it and (almost always) where.

So. There's this new bloke I work with in the morning, which I already knew we had several things in common, which sorted the coffee cups all in the same position, perfectly on line one with each other, sugar on the left and spoon on the right.

I'm definitively amazed.

I'm not alone.

What's next?

Alright.  Deadline met.

Poster and header edited and completed, event opened, mails to radio and typography sent, everything within 3pm of today.

All accomplished, of course, and fuck off to every disturbing element.

Now I'm just realising how busy I've been that I'm almost getting bored.

Guess I can get some good, healthy rest before the next tour-de-force.

28th is Bank Holiday and a bird already told me we're planning another event.

As the old good soul Hannibal (RIP George <3) used to say, I love it when a plan comes together!

Tired...

...but happy.

Finally done with the Halloween project for work. Unless my Boss changes his mind, of course. Even if he said whatever I do, it's perfect. We'll see.

It has been hard with Lolly seeking for attention all the time, which means walking on my head, shoulders, keyboard and surrounding. The lil Criminal doesn't understand that Mummy is busy working on something which allows us to get that expensive bag of food she likes more than the cheap one.

Things are getting better, definitely.

Regardless I'm still finding myself fighting with some stupid adversity. Everything is sortable, tho. It's just a matter of time.

Lil big things.

Ironically, here I am, getting more visibility day by day.

And compliments. 

And trust.
My boss is not that kind of person who's generous on compliments so when I see into his eyes how happy he is each time I show him one of my works, well, that's better than a million words.

Great timing. Got the task for the Halloween event, which means one of my favourite celebration in addition with my passion for Darkness and Photoshop. I can let the Gothic-Me go. Boss said I have carte blanche. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Got an increase of hours and, accordingly, salary. 

Some of my projects are becoming real. First of all, the new camera. On queue, colour laser printer, Photoshop CS6 and iPhone.

Once I come out of this transition time, I can even come back to balance my life between duties and hobbies. Hard to tell, when one of your hobbies became part of your working life.

Everything's fine, in the end.

I just miss a couple of persons I unvoluntarily left behind and I hope to find when I'll be back. Some addictions are hard to remove and I honestly have no aim to do it. 

Now, you'll excuse me, I come back to learn how the hell iMovie works, before planning to put Final Cut Pro on my list of purchases.

Follow your dreams.

Seven years ago I was writing a fictional story set in the place of my dreams.

Today I live there and I'm the Graphic and Content Editor at my favourite pub.

I'm writing my own story now.

Who said dreams don't come true?

Jeez.

Some people deserve the title of Senior Manager at Pissing me off with role as Ac-counting things I'd throw at them.

I'm ALMOST getting jealous of the 2nd amendment in the US. It'd allow me to shoot at people for self defence.

 

Matter of pride.

This morning I was remembering some bad, past experiences I had with people in my life and I came to the conclusion that I'm the only responsible of falling always on the same wrong path.

Something I absolutely need to change is the naive perception that there's always something good in everyone. 

Totally wrong. Some people are just a waste and creating an illusion on them is the first step to bigger mistakes, when not even to a big grief.

It's not them, it's me. Once on that path, it's hard to step back due to my pride which doesn't allow me to admit I'm wrong again.

Psychologically talking, this way of iconising people arises from the need of believing there's still hope in this world.

Again, not always true and often wrong.

What I really need to do is looking at things in the way they are, whether I like them or not.

Time for daydreams is over.

The price of ignorance.

Living in Ireland is really wonderful, if you ignore their sanctimonius and religious laws and taxes they apply on alcohol and cigarettes. I don't approve the first ones at all, I understand that such excise is supposed to be there as deterrent for smoking and drinking. Very odd considered that one of the most exported thing from this country is alcoholics themselves.

Anyway.

If you live in Ireland and it comes on your mind to skip the duty on tobacco buying from websites those promise you cheap prices and duty free, don't!

Don't even try to have your Mama/Auntie/Best friend/Whatever shipping them.

I experienced it on my own skin.

Trusting one of the above mentioned websites and hoping to save money for a bit, I ended spending about the double.

Here's the story.

I bought a carton of Lucky Strike from "X" website.

Tot. paid: €66.06 + 1.16 due to change Euro/Dollar.

On their website they say:

U.K., Irish, French, Italian, German, Netherlands, and Canadian Customers X.com will not be held responsible for lost / stolen and / or seized orders by Customs. X.com will attempt to accommodate its customers to the best of its ability by providing a merchandise credit and points that grant discount on non-tobacco, non-alcohol (and non-perfume for Canadian customers) when deemed necessary.

Of course, Customs seized my carton at its arrival. What I was totally ignoring is the Public Notice 1878 which states:

Alcohol and Tobacco Products being brought into Ireland from another EU country without payment of duties must be transported and accompanied by you, i.e. cannot be shipped/posted to this country.

Translated: Or you bring them yourself and in the allowed quantity (i.e. 200 cigs) or there's no way that you receive them by post.

I hit myself against the Finance act 2001 Section 141 and 142.

BUT, you can claim them back, paying the missing duty which in this case has been:

Customs Duty           - €  63.93

VAT @ 23%              - €  17.97
An Post Fee              - €   6.00
Total for Collection    - € 87.90

Therefore, 10 packs of Lucky Strike in this way have a final cost of €155.12, that means almost 0.80 cents/cig, that means also I'll smoke them very slowly and wisely as they were gold plated.

With almost the same amount I should have got 2 cartons of Pall Mall at the newsagent behind home...

Short dreams.

Each time I fall into the same mistake, but at least this time I was justified.

After 42 minutes on the site of a job interview, spending time looking at how things work and how they need to be done, filling yourself a couple of records, it comes spontaneous thinking «Hooray! It's done: my life is finally about to change!» 

And there you are, naive believer and dreamer, planning new budgets, new purchases, new routines with a huge smile on your face.

Then, you find yourself frantically checking your email, moving your phone from a place to another even when the signal if full, waiting for a call like a teenager at her first date with the most handsome bloke of the school.

But, when the call doesn't come within the time it was supposed to be, here that you actually see all your sand castles falling down, dragged away from a virtual high tide, till the last grain.

So, you open your eyes again and nothing has changed, like everything has never happened and you're still trapped in your yesterday which will be your tomorrow too, over and over again.

Until the next dream.

Here we go.

Took a break (a long one, actually) from writing and looking after this blog. 

Sometimes it just happens that too many things come out and you're so shattered you can't even gather a single thought. Then, often, some things can't just be shared.

It has been time to ponder, analyse and revalue some settings of my life, also a way to understand what I really need and want. Reached a good point, shame I'm not able to make it real yet.

Several things have been put aside, waiting for a better timing, but not forgotten at all.

Into the desperation of managing a life which suddenly is falling apart, you just look at what made you feel good in your last years, trying to get it back even when it's the wrong answer.

Maybe cryptic, but there's no better way to explain it.

I'm slowly stepping back to my old habits, the ones I liked and loved so much, into the little, precious, perfect world I created around myself, one step at time.

This is one of them.

Sold!

Guess I'm getting involved in this thing lol

Funny and profitable.

Octavia ultimated :)

Wow.

I started having a blog in 2005, I guess. I kept it for years till I had a serious breakdown and I stopped writing. I realized I really missed writing and venting so I created this one.

Anyway.

I'm in a desperate need of money. Scratching among my parents supplying and my wages I'm still short, mostly having Lollipop to feed etc. 

In need of something to make money with, given that writing a book takes too long, I started to craft things. I never thought someone was going to ask me to buy them for real.

So. 

I'm on rent and my wage is not enough. I need to spay Lolly and I'm a hundred short. I'd like to buy myself a new camera for my birthday but I already know it's too late. So... if you want to help me, just buy one of me creations. Inbox me. I'm a certified Paypal user.

Commissioned and not already finished. Octavia rules!

Shell painting. I have a project for them but I'm willing to sell them one by one. Just €1 plus shipping.

Love it. Handmade HK stone but I'm desperate so €5 plus shipping.

Sold. My business started here *.*

Wicklow Gaol. Really hard work. €10 for stone plus shipping.

I love it. €5 plus shipping.

How to put together old stuff and local stones. Tealight holder with Murrogh stones, €10 plus shipping.

Simple as that. Irish sheep. €5 plus shipping. Isn't that cute? :P