Hello. I've never been as late at writing one of these posts which probably means I've been in a state of denial about 2015 giving us September already. I could use a final heatwave before the world turns shades of orange and red once more.
I worked in a call centre for the first couple of weeks of this month, a job that was nowhere near as terrible as the imaginary sitcom I penned in my head which took place there. One of my dearest friends had a conversation with me a few years ago, in which we decided the less-fun aspects of our lives are important for gaining the life experience needed to write really good novels.
A brief hiatus from my swivel chair and headset took me to Romania (and Bulgaria). I wrote an entire blog post about the weekend and I suppose the only thing I have to add is that I really enjoyed our tour guide giving us a history of what it was like growing up in a country that stumbled its way into Capitalism after a long history with Communism. Dozing in the back of a car which crosses the Danube at sunset whilst listening to Keane and actually learning something is a really glorious way to spend time.
After triumphantly handing in my notice at the call centre, I made my way to London for Summer in the City with a synth on my back. Quite literally. Summer in the City was good. I think I've finally gotten used to the fact that the only interaction I will have with friends whilst there is a quick hug and an apologetic "I have to go!" and that's okay. We met so many people over the two days and I think my back is still recovering (do I blame the synth or the hugging?).
Upon returning to Belfast, someone very near to me received some bad news which in turn becomes my bad news. [Sidenote: the language we use to talk about 'bad news' is so strange. All softened at the edges.] I can't really elaborate beyond that but I've been angry and sad and zoned out at various points over the past couple of weeks and I know those emotions will continue to edge their way into the coming months. My friends, most without even knowing it, have been so there and they are just ineffably fab. This sort of rolls into my 22nd birthday, which consisted of a solitary day and a populated evening (the food population outweighed the human one, as it should). I did not receive a single tangible gift on my birthday, which sounds very like a complaint but I assure you it isn't!! The things I received were weightless and that helped me to feel lighter during a heavy week.
I also treated a Belsonic show as a belated, personal birthday party. It was such a wonderful night; feeling proud of my husband and feeling inspired and weirdly moved by the performance given by twenty one pilots.
As youngsters returned to school across the country on Monday, I started a 12 week internship at Third Bar Artist Development in Belfast. (You are more than welcome to like that Facebook page *wink*). Expect to hear lots about that in next month's installment.
I am on a First Aid Kit buzz this evening, and I can't finish this post without mentioning The Gift, which Bry and I went to see in early August. It blew my little mind and although I truly value acting, directing and writing as totally separate and really difficult jobs, the fact that Joel Edgerton did all three at once is so impressive. Finally, I finished reading The Commitments by Roddy Doyle which felt like a very fitting read before starting a job in the music industry.
The minutes of daylight are running out so I will stop rambling. Perhaps that's a good life motto.