Update - My Scribbles

Quiet Storm - Poetry

I love to write. It's an absolute necessity for me and on a daily basis, I'll prioritise writing over socialising, resting and eating.

I've been writing, creating and imagining since I can remember and as a child, there was no place where I loved to be, more than my imagination. I spent my summer days, lost in my make-believe worlds, exploring exotic jungles, discovering new planets or unearthing some ancient ruins, which could mean the end of our world as we knew it. However, between my mid-teens and mid-twenties, my imagination took a back seat and I sort of lost myself, easing into a cesspit of depression.

With some supportive and influential intervention from a handful of very dear people, though, I rediscovered my passion and need for imagination. I began to write again and sometimes, in genres which I had never dappled in before. Soon I was uploading  streams of poetry, fiction and non-fiction onto this blog and to my delight and complete surprise, people were listening.

I immersed myself within the online creative community. I reached out to others, became inspired by others' stories and experiences and posted on my blog daily. However, I was also working on a series of fantasy novels, which had began when I was fifteen and between, my novel, my blog and my job, I was stretched to breaking point. I had to step back from something. Unfortunately I couldn't quit my job and I was determined to finish and publish my novel so to my sorrow, my blog would need to be the sacrifice, for now anyway.

So I've been dedicating myself solely to my novel and over the last two-and-a-half years the fatigue is starting to set. Seven drafts in and the light at the end is becoming brighter but I find my momentum is fading. The last few weeks in particular, I've been struggling to find my motivation, I know what to write but I'm just not super excited about it but at the same time, I really want to write.

I took a few days off writing, turned the bass up to max on my sound bar, switched on the YouTube app and engrossed myself in music from my favourite musicians. I began to feel a little more at ease after a day or two but I could still get a sense of underlying anxiety ebbing at me. I knew what needed to be done.

I didn't know what I was going to write but I knew it had to come out, it was the only thing that could reveal and alleviate my whispering worries. Taking a fresh coffee, my pouch of tobacco and my humble refill pad to the back seat of the car, I played some YouTube and put pen to paper, in hopes that something would come out.

I suppose I had been so involved with the novel, that a bunch of my ideas and thoughts had built up and I needed a creative release. 

I really do miss posting here on a regular basis and I am truly sorry that I can't do it more often. I'm on the final draft before the manuscript is sent to an editor, which will free up some time and energy for imagination exploration and more frequent posting. Until next time, I give you Quiet Storm 

Quiet Storm

Calloused fingers, 
A ridged forehead, 
Coffee stained teeth, 
Tobacco scented breath and a curved spine, 
Stuck for the words to explore my mind, 
Just scrawling and hoping something will align, 
Waiting for the spark to drive my mood, 
My story 
My tale 
But that's no good,

Who am I but a scared little girl? 
Lost the fight to the world,
No will 
No strength 
No energy to argue, 
Apathy and compliance is all I know, 
What happened? 
Where did I go?

There was once 
A time 
When I 
Was a force to be recognised, 
A storm of destruction 
On the path of those who did me wrong, 
A crusader for those too weak to stand strong, 
When I was good I was very very good 
But when I was bad I was a cunt, 
A rigid and unyielding sense of justice, 
The confidence of youth, 
Friends few and far between, 
Finding solace in my mind, 
My imagination the playground of my heart and soul, 
My world 
Where I came alive,

But time drags you along 
Even with heals dug to the ground, 
And the imaginary games must die down, 
Left behind with tender youth 
Disregarded to the trash 
Along with my gargantuan barbie doll stash,
My greatest lament of all - the passage of time,

Grow up now 
Be like the rest 
Put away the toys 
Fancy all the boys 
Plaster your face 
Worry about your waist 
You have to care 
About bleaching your hair,

A refusal to conform,
A choice to stand alone 
Against the pressure of my peers 
My punishment ebbed for years 
And many years to come, 
A maddening pattern 
Of isolation 
And rejection, 
Lonesome 
Loathsome,
Opinions quietened, 
Passion for justice subsided, 
The drip of apathy seeped through my back, 
My only escape, 
My English class, 
Where once again my imagination enveloped my being 
Nurturing my landscapes 
Birthing my people 
Breaking free of the passing of time 
Lost entirely in those worlds of mine,

Confidence gone, 
No love for the self, 
Tricked into loving another, 
A youthful heart can know no better, 
Tortured 
Abused 
Ridiculed 
And used, 
All for your sick pleasure , 
You found me at my most impressionable 
And set the distorted mold, 
Crafted me to your twisted perfection 
Before pounding me down 
To the squishy mound 
Within your iron hold, 
Nothing but games 
Tricks 
Or threats, 
I was too clouded to see 
That your need for me 
Was far greater than mine 
For you 
Could ever be, 
The distance probably saved my life,

Freed of your grasp 
And ever looming knife, 
I lived on, 
Grew strong, 
Appreciation of the heart 
Body 
Soul 
And mind, 
A lesson to never will them up as eagerly again, 
My voice boomed a little more 
But my nerve could not match, 
My hardened exterior only a front 
It even fooled me 
Right from the start, 
I absorbed all of life's problems 
Like a sodden sponge 
Allowing it to seep through 
Embedding as concealed anxiety, 
Only a few quick slices to my flesh 
Could lessen the pressure, 
Self harm they call it, 
It was a necessity, 
Not a cry for help 
But a private incision, 
A precise focus on the pain 
The tears would diminish 
And control the tension,

All the while 
Youth slips further away 
Partnered with confidence and belief, 
Nagging sense of disdain 
Incessant hum of anxieties 
Never to cease, 
A man's world 
Dog eat dog 
Sink or swim, 
No regard 
No glory 
No place 
For the story 
Of the little lady 
The famished runt 
The drowning poet, 
Beaten and battered 
Doubted and disregarded,
I gave up 
I quit, 
Nothing else mattered,

I locked my journal away
My notebooks 
My paints 
My pens too, 
Accepting the chill of life 
Until I could feel no more, 
Consumed by numbness 
Overcome with apathy, 
Just as the drone or the soldier ant 
I fell in line, 
My purpose for pittance,
To serve 
To please 
To smile,

The spiral it took me, 
Deep to my shadow depth, 
Fantasies absorbing to leave this world, 
Mind racing, 
Each repressed thought 
Edging it's way out 
Consuming 
Smothering 
Overwhelming 
Oozing through every pore, 
A gasp for air 
Double beat of the heart 
Cramped 
Crushed 
Suffocating 
And crippling 
Body soul and mind, 
The breakdown had come, 
Had come just in time,

You see 
The thing 
With being broken down is 
You can 
Once again 
Be built back up,
And for me 
It was liberty, 
Not built to meet perfection 
But built to be 
Simply me,

With my therapist's advocacy, 
It became clear to see
That my core 
My joy 
My passion 
Was rooted in the literary, 
And with her introduction 
To a wonderfully soulful poet, 
My mind began to flourish, 
I again delved into my reality,
I had awoken, 
Numbness fading 
Passion and ambition had spoken, 
Self belief they call it, 
A necessity, 
Unfamiliar to me, 

Mind clearer 
Heart lighter 
Soul free, 
I write and write, 
On my break 
On my lunch 
My evenings spent, 

Calloused fingers 
Ridged forehead 
Coffee stained teeth 
Tobacco scented breath and a curved spine 
Each a badge of honour 
Which are truly mine, 
I will paint my magical landscape, 
My imagination 
My eager escape 
As I frolic with my playful words, 
And even if no-one is to listen 
I will go on, 
For I am apart of the stars 
Which glisten. 

End

This song in particular stood out in my quest for inspiration

© Sarah O’Regan

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Writing

Update - My Scribbles

The Wonderings of Jack Coving: 

The Mathemagician Politician

I'll bet that you weren't expecting to see me again so soon. 'Jack has returned for a brief spell, only to disappear back into the woodwork...' Who could blame you for thinking as much? I did abandon you beautiful people for a stint. However, our new leader has stirred inspiration and the moans and groans cannot remain quelled. So, I invite you now to get in close and join me in this bottle of fine American bourbon as we dip into my wondrings...

haven't I been telling ye all about Leo, though? he hasn't a notion, not a single clue. Jack may be gruff and somewhat coarse but my God, can I call it.

With each public appearance, dear Leo gives us another peek at his self righteous, ignorant, manipulative and down right dumb self and it's become evident that he's in way over his head.

Unfortunately for our glorious ruler, during his last interview, he was up against the legendary Vincent Browne and true to my hero Mr. Browne's probing form, he pulled no punches with ditzy Leo... I know I came at least twice just watching Vincent annihilate our bemused Taoiseach.

The two major issues which I have with our darling leader (two of dozens) is for one, (and this is an important one which the global media is diligently omitting) we, the Irish people, did not elect him. I don't mean that it was a close result or only a small and bitter minority voted against him and his party. No, his party, Fine Gael, did not gain a majority vote in our last general election, in fact, no party did. What should have been a revolution and the demise of the old elitist politics only descended into a farcical charade....Fianna Fail, who constantly argued that they and Fine Gael were completely different parties, jumped aboard the FG ship by agreeing to abstain from any parliamentary vote which would go against FG's agenda. Rather than putting the fate of our country back into the hands of the Irish people and allowing for another election, it was a matter of keep the head down, say nothing and we'll all just go for a pint instead.

The second gripe which I have with our holier-than-thou leader is that he literally cannot comprehend how hard life is for the working class, the elderly, the physically sick, the mentally ill and anyone who requires special needs. How can he? He was born privileged and immersed himself in that pampered world, all the while he refuses to call a spade for what it actually fucking is.

Some may argue that he's merely trying to pull the wool over our eyes, however, I'm genuinely beginning to believe that he is completely oblivious to the struggles which most of us face on a daily basis and made his arrogant perspective perfectly clear on his recent appearance on Tonight with Vincent Browne. 

Bless him, Vincent broke it right down for our trendy Taoiseach in the most simplistic form that he could. It was reminiscent of a first class teacher explaining what 2+2 equals. 

Just to backtrack slightly, When Enda led the country, he was adamant that the average annual income per person in our country was €35000... not bad right? Leo, too, is continuing this mantra, stating that income is rising and inequality is reducing - utter bullshit, was then - is now. How can the average income be €35000 when over half the population earn €9.25 or below per hour? How does less than €20000 come near 35k? Or how can you be expected to stretch your 19k to add up to the 24k they're saying that you need to survive? 

Well Vincent used a nice example to simplify it for him. Bare in mind, this was around the time I needed a pants change, so I'm paraphrasing here... 

A room with four people and each of these people have a different sum of money in their wallets. We'll say €30, €40, €50 and €50000. Mathematically, the average amount of money per person in that room is €12530. However, realistically, the only one hoarding that kind of cash in their pocket is Leo Varadkar. Retired Mrs. Walsh down the road still has only €30, Jack Coving is trying to stretch that €40 and then there's thirty year old Vanessa, who has no hope of getting a mortgage with her €50. You want to average it out Leo? Then split your €50k with those other three. 

Essentially, what people forget, is that there is an inaccuracy with averages and the higher your range, the more vague the average will be. We cannot gauge a true standard of living when the bottom 90% of the population, who earn on average €27000 a year are lumped in with the top 1% who earn, on average, of €350k per year. 

This was where the truth of Leo really shone... His response? He wants to make life better for the middle class. So essentially fuck anyone on welfare, fuck half the population who earn minimum and below and fuck those who earn just above minimum but below the cost of living. That's a hell of a lot of people you intend on fucking Leo, hope you brought enough lube. 

Wait! hold off on those gallons of Vaseline for a sec, he won't be fucking as many as we had initially thought (Just those crooks on welfare it seems) because  - and I'm deadly serious here - he considers the working class (those earning well below the cost of living) to be apart of the middle class! Even political scientists have deemed the statement as 'odd'. Just because you say something, Leo, it doesn't make it so... Call that shit oozing out of your mouth what you like, it doesn't change the fact that it smells like a pungent cesspit. 

The fact is, that, by definition, middle class is considered to be the group of people who fall between the upper and working class. People who can afford a mortgage, insurance, refuse, utilities, Internet, car costs, medical bills, provide for their children and who still have cash left over to save up a nest egg. 

I know it looks "really good" to Europe, a country filled with middle class and I know you only want to fit in with your liberal, cosmopolitan and sexy European counterparts but cut the crap, they will find out eventually that over half of your population fall into the category of 'working class', a class which, sadly, is growing. 

I'm crying out to you all now, the world needs to stop praising this man. Who gives a flying fuck whether or not he's gay? The media absolutely fixated on his sexuality after his 'election' and entirely overlooked the type of politician that he is. He's nothing but a leech, sucking dry the resources for the needy and lavishing it upon his precious middle and upper class. There is nothing, to date, within his bland, uninspiring and short political career which renders him fit or worthy to lead and run our country - his mosts distinguished act thus far saved the health department €12 million, during his run as Minister for Health, by slashing funding from the already pathetic mental health budget of €35 million, stating that the funds could be better used elsewhere. In a country where we rank number Two within Europe for death by suicide and in a country where Apple owe us billions in tax, he found it appropriate to cut our funding for mental health by roughly 30%... and this man is a doctor!... We are dealing with a very simple being here.


For now my friends, I intend on finishing this bottle, before taking a long walk. Don't you love that fresh scented air after a summer shower? 

Until we speak again, 
Take care, 
Jack Coving

More on Leo's stupidity here
The Wonderings of Jack Coving: Democracy - Bolloxracy
You Up Yet Leo?

© Sarah O’Regan

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Writing | Home | More from Jack

Update - My Scribbles

The Wonderings of Jack Coving

Democracy? - Bolloxracy!

Ah my friends, it's been some time hasn't it? I must apologise profusely for leaving you in the lurch, what was left of my sanity needed time away from the political scene. The charade of democracy and the boner for Apple which Fianna Gael so proudly grasp in their clammy, clammy hand - not even the entire contents of the Middleton distillery could pacify me. So I said, "Fuck the lot of ya and your mothers. I'm off!". Then I packed a bag and trekked across South America for a spell.

Being rid of this country for a few months was the exact escape I needed. I'd love to fill you in on my adventures but I know that's not why you're here. You don't want to flick through my snaps or hear of my escapades. No, Jack is more fun when he's giving out, not happy unless he's miserable - the mantra of the Irish man.

So what have I missed? A lot of the same old shite, it would seem. We went from blatantly conniving and socially crude Enda running the show to secretly evil and coherently suave Leo taking up the reigns. Funny thing though, before I left the country, Fianna Gael did NOT gain a majority vote in the last general election, yet their party still rules? So what, being Taoiseach is just a matter of dibs now is it? If I had known that, I would have thrown my hat in the running because the way I see it, Jack Coving has just as much right to be Taoiseach as Leo.

Perhaps I'm misjudging our glorious leader? Maybe he is the young, charming and empathetic ruler, which he is so desperately trying to portray? He's "with it" and "gets" the young adults trying to make a life for themselves. I mean check out his latest ploy, clearly the future of politics is here and cherubesque Leo is at the forefront. Genius simply isn't the word. The young and hip, "Taoiseach", has hopped on the Trump wagon and will be bestowing upon us, his weekly opinion on what he and his government are doing for us.

We don't want your weekly bias viewpoint on how things are going, you know. The media already informs us of the facts and allow us to make up our own minds, we don't need opinion. And that's exactly what these "touching base" videos are about, Leo's egotistical opinion on how he's getting on.

He's not some sort of revolutionary, man of the people. He's your typical over-opinionated, overpaid, out of touch, self righteous, pudgy, stuffed shirt. He doesn't have a clue about the ordinary working man or the poor soul, stuck, drawing the dole. He's a man who views funding for mental health to be unnecessary, sees that young couple on social welfare while working, to just barely make ends meet, as crooks and perceives Joan Burton as an innocent victim. Despite the courts ruling, he is adamant that our constitutional right to protest is wrong. 

This man cannot be trusted, the very nature of his profession is to distort facts and fudge numbers. To people like Leo it's all about looking good on the outside, forget about the stagnant core. After all, if he did indeed possess any sense of dignity or shame, he would have condemned Joan Burton's actions and would have supported the innocent citizens who had riot police banging down their doors. No, for Leo, it's about appeasing your first class friends and lining your pockets along the way. These politicians have no empathy for or understanding of the second and third class people (and yes I did mean first, second and third class. Just as with the titanic, the last boom was our luxury liner and the elites made for the lifeboats, leaving the poor to sink or swim. 

So what has dreamy Leo been up to? (I'm sorry but I can't take a man called "Leo" seriously, it just conjures images of Bert Lahr as the cowardly lion, the resemblance is striking actually!) To figure this out, I'm going to have to watch that video the whole way through, aren't I?...

Okay, so two minutes in and first of all, Jesus, I hope it was an unpaid student or an office intern with literally no experience in film making that produced the video. (I'm going to have to watch this tripe in stages, I can feel my IQ dropping with every ticking millisecond.) Ever hear of a script? Framing? A tripod? A boom? You just recorded that sound straight onto the camera mic didn't you? A golden rule of film making Leo, an audience will forgive poor picture quicker than poor sound. We can barely hear your boasts over the hum of the rolling camera and your shrill voice reverberating off the walls. And my god, why are you positioned so low down? Also, you really could have gotten rid of that mug an water bottle on your right, I don't know, a nice bouquet of roses or a big foam hand with a proud and erect middle finger sticking up and the words "Are you buying this?" splashed across the front would have been more appropriate. It needs more zazz! If your going to hop onto this video buzz, really go for it Leo, give us some razzle dazzle. I mean, that electrical socket in the background is holding my attention far better than your drawl. Have you seen Trump's bodyslam? - Epic!

Who would have thought the production quality alone would have rendered so much ammunition? I haven't even critiqued the, likely, hallow content and the vein popping in my forehead is in danger of bursting. Lets grit our teeth and push "play"... 

Well, there goes five minutes of life, where time could have been better spent tasing my testicles or shaving my eyeballs. The whole idea is on par with that hilarious Talk to Joan campaign. Nothing but a self-indulgent waffle. Now, I know nobody likes a good waffle like Jack Coving but come on, guy, put a bit of effort into it. 

You're giving us literally no further information than we already have about the North. Why didn't Covney succeed, Leo? Come on dish! 

And we're really none the wiser on the Canadian prime minister's trip. So ye had a friendly chat, discussed your common interests, discovered, shocker, that he has Irish roots and went for a pint? 

Then there's the appointment of 950 special needs assistants, great! One question though, what kind of salary will these sorely needed assistants have? Nurses and teachers are grossly underpaid as it is and now you're expecting 950 people to do the work of a saint for pittance? You ask a lot of the Irish people Leo. Like an abusive partner, it's all take, take, take with you. 

Then there's the cancer strategy, which is "really good" apparently? Coz you know, "Most people survive cancer and in the past, they didn't." That man's a doctor and he said those words?! 

He just breezed through the topic of the next budget then but, holy shit, it's cool, forget about the budget, we may be getting the rugby world cup! Because, that legislation is a priority... and a "really good result". To be honest, I'm more interested in ye vultures discussing legislation regarding the 8th ammendment.

Let's move onto the pay by weight bin charges, which are also "really good" - Jesus, Leo, this is why you need a script! It's going to reward the "good citizens who recycle." What about the bad citizens who don't? Since pay by weight has been introduced to half the country, I've only seen more illegal dumping. Beautiful country roads, where rubbish wasn't a problem before, have been transformed into a free for all dumping ground. And ppssh on your watchdog. Who makes up this group Leo? lobbyist or yourselves?

Don't even get me started on your bollox live register, which is not an interpretation of the quality of life in our country. More jobs doesn't mean a progressive country. Well paid and secured employment is the mark of a prosperous country. And if you're looking for a bit of extra tax money, give Apple a call, I hear they owe you a bit. 

Finally, he had the audacity to finish it all off by telling me that income is rising and inequality is reducing?? Gobsmacked! You are entirely delusional, or have gotten confused at which country you're leading... psst, it's not somewhere "really good", like New Zealand or Norway.

To be honest, the content isn't really even worth commenting on. Wasting five minutes of my life to prove myself right - this weekly catch up is redundant, uninformative, deceitful and far from entertaining. Needless to say, Leo's videos will not be making my weekly "must watch" list... Although it is rather therapeutic and a lot of fun pointing out Leo's incompetence.

Now, Leo, Im talking to you directly here, thats right look deep into my black, hollow eyes while I lavish my wisdom upon you. Rather than wasting your efforts to cod us into thinking that you're valuable and aren't an absolute smarmy prick, why don't you actually become valuable and actually attempt to not be a prick? It takes about the same amount of energy but comes with far more wholesome results. Or if that's too much, just simply shut the fuck up.

I think that's me emptied for now, well I could go on, however, I fear my ranting will keep you here for longer than what's recommended. I'm still hoping that I've simply been in a hallucinogenic drunken stupor for the last decade and this crock pot of shit has been my twisted imagination. 

Until next time my beautiful friends, 
Take care,
Jack

© Sarah O’Regan

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Update - My Scribbles

You Up Yet Leo?

In these times of elitist politics and feigned democracy, I often find myself wondering what would the heroes of 1916 think of the Ireland in which we live in today?

Did they truly fight and die for this? Yes, the class rule of British oppression has been abolished, however those seats seemed to be have been filled instead by the self righteous politician. The politician who is out wholly for their own agenda and views the ordinary citizen as insignificant, savage, slow witted and lazy.

Now, perhaps few, except Joan Burton, are so willing to vocalise their true feeling towards the people they're supposed to serve, however, actions speak louder than words.

Let's take, in my opinion, the most scandalous and underhanded political event in recent times, the last general election. Literally, not one single vote that we cast as a nation counted. Let me reiterate that, YOUR VOTE DIDN'T MATTER. Despite the fact that Fine Gael DID NOT gain a majority vote, astoundingly, they retained power and Enda hung on in there. I'm baffled, I was under the impression that Collins, Connolly, De Valera, Clarke, MacDonagh, Pearse, Markievicz, had all fought for a democratic Ireland. I believed that they had fought for equality, for a free Ireland, their aim was to dismantle the class divide, not to merely pass it onto the sanctimonious and out-of-touch politician.

So now, regardless of the fact that the majority of the country DID NOT want FG to lead us, we have come to a point, where two pompous shysters within the party have the audacity to consider themselves for the role as our Taoiseach. Neither of them deserve to lead the Irish, not just based on the fact that their party lost the last election but based on their own personal merits and moral values. Neither has the capacity to understand the needs, goals and fears of the ordinary Irish citizen and neither wants to be named Taoiseach for the sake of the welfare of the Irish people but rather, merely for the superficial title and, more importantly, the expansive pay packet and pension which comes with it.

Two in the same, Giant Douche or Turd Sandwich, who will it be? On one hand, we have Varadkar and on the other, Coveney and sometimes, I can't tell them apart; Each resonate with a stagnant stench of arrogance and both fail to recognise the rights, priorities and requirements of the man who isn't raking in €100K + a year.

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Update - My Scribbles

Where has all the Art Gone?

The Revolution introduced me to art, and in turn, art introduced me to revolution - Albert Einstein

From remake, to "based on a true story", to repetitive and uninspired imagery, to hallow lyrics and over produced melodies, to unscripted drama and melodramatic plots, it seems that originality, creativity and imagination have taken a back seat in the world of mainstream art.

As I pulled up to work this morning, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody blared through my speakers and I thought "What a song." The variety of melodies and instruments, invigorating and the thought-out, heartfelt and authentic lyrics, captivating. Though I don't know exactly what inspired Mercury or what went through his head as he penned the words, I couldn't help but feel a connection with the artist, as he bared his soul for the world to see. However, when I switched off my blutooth, the radio went on and some irritating, pointless and repetitive noise spewed out of the speakers; what the song was, I couldn't say, to me it sounded like every other hallow drawl which had been "created" over the last decade or two.

In fact, it has been proven that over the last fifty years, the quality of popular music has been in decline, manufactured groups and recording artists are the accepted norm and the self made singer/songwriter is increasingly rare but going from bad to worse, the creative decline has slowly seeped into literature, television and film as well...

More

© Sarah O’Regan

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Writing

Update - My Thoughts

Spring Fever is Here!

First let me extend a super awesome 2017 to you! I've been away from my blog in recent months, sadly it was a necessary sacrifice as time is so fleeting of late, I feel the older I get, the faster it zooms by.

I don't know about you but I sense a buzz of excitement about 2017, something is tingling inside me, whispering, "It's gonna be a good year." I'm not sure where this unknown source of positivity is stemming from but I certainly intend on embracing it.

I've been dedicating myself to my novel over the last few years and have set a deadline to finish this draft within a few weeks; I'm actually really excited about reaching this deadline because draft three will be the completed story. No more plot, subplot or side stories to write - It's complete, it's down on paper; Three years of my life, spread across 400 odd pages. Not that I didn't enjoy the experience immensely, it was a huge part of my life but it will certainly be an accomplishment to type that final full-stop. Then begins the process I'm eagerly awaiting, the tweaking and editing!

I did, however, manage to find a little spare time over Christmas to write a new piece but have only found more time this weekend to edit it. There's just a little more work left to do but will have it ready for tomorrow

Anyway, spring is in the air! Time to dust off the lens or grab a notebook or sketchpad, get out, embrace the natural, flourishing world and get creating.

© Sarah O’Regan

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Update - My Scribbles

Liver and Onions - A Day in the Life of an Ordinary Irish Drone

About three weeks ago I sent this piece to the following politicians in hopes that at least one of them would take the slightest bit of interest: 

Garry Adams
Mick Barry
Michael Colins
Simon Covney
Michael Creed
Jim Daly
Billy Kelleher 
Micheal Martin
Michael McGrath
Aindrias Moynihan
Dara Murphy
Margaret Murphy
Donnchadh O'Laoghaire
Jonathan O'Brien

Unsurprisingly, like most who call out to our government for help, I was ignored. That's not to say someone won't eventually respond but I won't be holding my breath. 


In today's economic climate, with low paying, zero hour contract jobs, there is a phrase that is thrown at many of us who are considered to be the working class; "Be grateful you have a job."

Usually this is casually uttered by someone who has no idea what is to have a minimum or slightly above minimum wage job. Now I don't entirely blame these people or would be too quick to call them ignorant, misled, perhaps. After all, with the Central Statistic Office claiming that the average annual income in this country to be aprox €35,000, you can't exactly hold those who believe this to be true to be entirely accountable for being blasé towards those of us who are struggling

In reality, the figures are far more startling. In actual fact over half of the working force in this country earns under €28,500 a year, with 20% of the population earning between €17,500 and €22,000 while a whopping 108,000 people earn less than €17,500 and these are all based on full time workers, that's 36 to 40 hours a week. That's less than €28,500 a year to spend on food, electricity, heating, refuse collection, phone/Internet, television license, school/college expenses, rent/mortgage, home insurance, car insurance, car tax, NCT, petrol/diesel, income tax and health care. Living a whole and fulfilling life on €28,500 or bellow per year is an impossibility, sacrifices and compromises must be made and I'm not talking luxuries like foregoing a holiday or new car, they don't even come into the equation... essentials have to be cut. For me, as much as I yearn for independence and freedom I have no choice but to accept that in the current climate, that day will never come. I have to continue to live at home with my parents with literally no realistic hope of ever owning my home...

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© Sarah O’Regan 


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Writing

Update - My Scribbles

Falling Stars

To live a dream is wistful, 
To dream a life is wasteful, 
To excel to the stars is for the life of the deserving, 
To plummet to the gutters is the deserving of the dreamer, 

To summon belief is willful, 
To believe the summon is skillful, 
To adorn the courage is for the path of the popular, 
To wallow in the fear is the deserving of the believer, 

To hope and dream and believe 
Is the luxury of few, 
As days grow 
Strength wavers, 
Consumed by conflicting cries 
Hold on 
Give up 
Struggling to see the sense of why. 

© Sarah O’Regan

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Update - My Scribbles

Blonde and Blonder

False nails
Fake tan
Synthetic hair, 
Blonde, 
As blonde can be, 

Your youthful visage
Nothing more than a paper mask,
Concealing the truth, 
Hiding the ugly within, 

Nothing natural,
Nothing real,
Nothing genuine under that skin, 
Until, 
You are denied what you seek, 
When you relenquish who is truly you, 

Sour,
Cold,
Calluos, 
An unjustifiable sense of self-importance,

You are both one in the same,
Nothing interesting, 
Nothing special,
Nothing unique,
Bland, 
As bland can be.

© Sarah O’Regan

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