I Don’t Know How To Be Happy

Heading into week 4 and the bus up and down from home remains the most taxing part of my life. I realise that I am complaining about having nothing to complain about, but you’re the one reading it, so who’s really ridiculous here?

My course workload is perfectly reasonable (aside from the fact that I’m reading enough to regret the invention of the written word), my lecturers are all interested and therefore interesting, and my class are all sensible, capable and well-adjusted. MY GOD I NEED SOMEONE TO SWEAR AT!

I developed my entire personality around being the cranky, tired, stressed and just all-round scary bitch. I like being that person, it works for me. I will take fear over genuine respect any day, as long as everyone is doing what I tell them to do. It’s hard pull off when you’re not mad at everyone, and I’m not mad at anyone. I don’t know how to do pleasant, neither do I want to.

It’s also hard to have a superiority complex when you’re not fixing other peoples issues for them. And I love my superiority complex, it quite literally makes me feel special. I thought being class rep would assuage this, but no, everyone’s coping just fine thanks. Fan-fucking-tastic. I mean sure, I can look down my nose at undergrads, but I’m not really better than them, just older. And that’s a whole other depressing can of worms that I’m not going to touch.

Help Wanted: Someone to create minor problems for me to solve, and just be generally irritating. All payment will be in the form of verbal abuse.


Image Credit: Hyperbole and a Half

Happy twentieth post to me!

First off, I want to congratulate (former? … no #pdt4lyf) classmate Cathal Redmond on not only winning the national leg of the Dyson Award, but also reaching the international short list. Am I writing this so I might show up in a few relevant google results? Yes. Is it true that I am ready to spit with jealousy? Also yes. But I’m sure a part of me is genuinely happy for you. And it’s a win for team UL. Which I’m on…

If you have no issue with my claiming partial to complete credit for your win, please don’t respond or react in any way.


In other news, I have a second week of postgraduate study down and there are still no projects in sight. And my obsessive self is not handling it well. Honestly, I’m bored. I don’t have work to stress over or studio drama to fall back on and I have very little to fill my days. I get that it’s the start of a new course, and for those whose didn’t come immediately back after undergrad, the warm up is probably necessary, but I was excited to come back to college for something to do, and so far it isn’t providing.

So in order to combat this, my brain said “GET INVOLVED IN ALL THE THINGS!” I am now writing as the I.Media class rep, the archery clubs first year rep and a prop & set designer for the drama society. We’ll see how this all goes when projects DO start, as it stands my Wednesday nights are already totally wiped out.

One of the first of these promised down-the-line projects is to build a fully functional website with Dreamweaver, which is fantastic news for The Wit Girl brand. UL is going to provide me with free hosting, and I am going to be able to throw off the .wordpress from my domain once and for all. I’m hoping to make the permanent move in early December and in the meantime I will continue posting here and you can watch me build the new site from the ground up. It’s not such fantastic news for the 50 odd business cards I have left, but hey, that’s what sharpies are for.

(O’Mahony, 2015)

I remembered on the bus that I hadn’t posted and badly wanted to ignore this for tonight, write tomorrow, pre-date it and totally pretend that it had been there all along. I did not do this, I said I would post on Sunday, I am posting on Sunday. Personal growth.

My first week has been, on the whole, fantastic, I feel like the course is really for me. But while there are many positive points I could write about, I have chosen, for tonight, to focus on the one thing that is absolutely terrifying me. I have been informed that “The distinction of a Masters degree is that a master is able to reflect on what they do.” I have also been informed that they are supposed to be able to write this reflection out. Well, shit. My academically illiterate self will have to learn to ACTUALLY reference. It seems a list of web links at the end of an essay won’t cut it any more.  Words have never been my friend, I like things short and to the point and I have very loose grammar rules. I have one tone, it is sarcastic, regardless of whether its this blog or a formal letter. Theses have words, many words. And I have to write one.

I also have to learn to read. Because it turns out somewhere in the past 4 years I lost that ability. I really haven’t had to do anything more than skim and now I can’t do anything but. I’ve attempted the first weeks assigned reading (~90 pages) twice now and still only have a vague gist of the contents. Something, something usability, yadda, yadda interaction. As you can see, it’s going really well.

How has it taken me until now to realise that academia doesn’t suit me?

Also it is super weird coming back to college, thinking it’s going to be mostly the same and then realising that you don’t have any friends any more. Or a studio to eat lunch in.

Normal Service Resumes In 3,2…

Untitled1Long story short, there were a lot of things I thought were scheduled that it turns out weren’t. That said, I’ve known for a while that nothing was getting posted, but it wasn’t until I noticed this thing quietly judging me from the side of my Facebook feed that I decided it was time to break the silence.

In the past month I ended up back in my lovely sheltered student accommodation, acquired a provisional drivers license, graduated, moved back to college and made it very evident to myself that I am not ready to adult. Mostly because handshakes.

If I added up every handshake I’ve ever been part of, I’m pretty sure more than half have happened in the past week. It’s like the second they put a degree in your hand it becomes a thing that you do, but is consistently catches me off guard.  This results in weak-ass handshakes. The time and effort it takes for my brain to process the sight of an extended hand and extend one in return doesn’t leave enough processing power to grip and I fail. Every. Time. I want to go back to waving at people.

Anyhow, I shall be orientating (orientated?) tomorrow (no doubt something that will bring about many more handshakes), and as of Monday I will be back in the comfort of full-time education. Posting on Sundays will for the most part return as will the occasional Wednesday post. Seeing as the first didn’t post and I didn’t watch the last few episodes on time, recapping Runway is dead.

Until my next unfulfilled promise, total 180 or just flat out lie, au revoir.