My life in pictures #3 - Year of the gig

Following the exams, my sister and I joked that the summer and the remainder of the year would be referred to as the 'year of the gig'. In July, I saw The Killers, Haim, Two Door Cinema Club and Frank Ocean, as well as Bell X1 in Cork. Here's some horrendously poor qualities of both gigs, which were fantastic (unlike the camera quality). Enjoy!

Bell X1 @ Live At The Marquee, Cork, July 4th

 

The Killers, Frank Ocean, Two Door Cinema Club, Haim @ Phoenix Park, Dublin, July 13th

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I'm never good at something when I try it for the first time. It's just a rule.
This rule, (more commonly referred to as 'Fionnuala's Law'), also applies to me driving.

Yes, after years of fleecing my mother, father and siblings for lifts , I have finally started to learn how to drive.

(Let's not get ahead of ourselves now, I've had two lessons - still more Spongebob than Jensen Button, unfortunately).

It's difficult though, isn't it? Well, maybe not difficult ... Just not as easy as I had initially anticipated. The first lesson was a breeze  - ambling around country lanes, Christy Moore yodelling in my ears, cruisin' at 20 miles per hour.

All that being said, where I live can't exactly be described as a built-up area - Narnia's a stone's throw away from it, so when you're the only car on the road, it's bound to be easier, isn't it?

It's all well and good being able to drive when there's no traffic on the roads, but it's entirely practical, especially with college coming up.

So, naturally, lesson two involved driving on a main road. All of a sudden things got that tad bit trickier.With roundabouts, T-junctions and drivers with road rage thrown into the equation, I was a nervous wreck. As I grappled with the steering wheel, I imagined I resembled an octopus lathered in Vaseline attempting to juggle.

(Of course, while I was imagining this, I almost crashed the car - apparently, you have to pay attention while driving?)

Road positioning's another kettle of fish altogether. "Let the white line be your guide", my driving instructor repeated, like some sort of ominous shaman chant. I was half expecting him to whip out some crystal meth and dream-catchers, but apparently that's frowned upon while driving.

You'd think it'd be easy - the lines are there for you to follow on the road. Essentially, it's Painting By Numbers. In a moving vehicle. Which can injure people.

And is there anything more shameful than that moment when the car stalls? Well, imagine doing that three times. On a roundabout. See, the truth is, I actually stalled on purpose. I was simply just stopping, momentarily, in order to embrace the roundabout and all its circular complexities. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

Lesson three will involve lots of steering and positioning practice, and we'll be heading in to town. The downside of this is that, potentially, people I know will see me make a twat of myself. No pressure, eh?

So, if you see a little red learner car occasionally stalling to take in the scenery, don't angrily indicate or shake your fist because there is a strong possibility that I will cry. 

This is not a test

"Graduation?" My mam snorted incredulously. "You graduate from college, not secondary school!"

For me, however, I felt the only way to describe this incredibly melodramatic transition from student to mere mortal as a 'graduation'. As we all sat in the dining assembly crying our eyes out, (No? Just me? It's not news to ye that I'm a massive loser anyway), I found it difficult to envision life beyond the classrooms, the teachers, the students and the school that had, essentially, made me who I am. Afterwards, I joked about asking if I could stay on permanently, hidden away in a supply cupboard, content with my life as a good student.

My graduation marked the end of an incredibly challenging year for myself and my fellow Leaving Cert students. It also marked the beginning of the exams themselves. From January onwards, the stress of school, as well as other factors, built up enormously. As someone who is renowned for putting herself under a great deal of pressure when it comes to tests, the Leaving Cert just didn't seem like something I would, in the end, be physically able to do. Months of exam papers, predictions, rants, oral examinations, practicals and scouring for universities would all boil down to a week's worth of exams for me. "These are the exams that will define you and decide your future!" they told us.

I'm sorry, but that is bullshit.

As much as the SEC, your teachers and the Department of Education wants you to believe that the world is going to spontaneously stop the day you and 1 get our results - it won't. Life doesn't begin after the Leaving Cert. It never has, and it never will. In that week in August, if it turns out that I have indeed fail Maths, there is no doubt that I will be exceptionally disappointed. But I know that life will go on, and in my final hours it won't be remembered that I failed Maths in my Leaving Cert. Sure, if you can tell me all the characteristics of a desert biome, I'm thrilled for you. But the Leaving Cert doesn't measure human qualities - how funny, nice, selfless or determined you are.

I am now at a point in my life where I believe I am facing an even bigger test than the Leaving Cert itself. I am approximately half a month into my summer break, and I have found myself teetering in the middle of some kind of emotional see-saw. I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen over the next few weeks. Summer is always given such an air of importance among people my age - between its temporary nature, the good weather and the freedom, it is truly a unique time where anything is possible. For the most part, my life is now limitless - no restraints such as exams, study or school work to hold me back. What am I going to make of myself? What am I going to become?

Scary prospect, isn't it?

I'm not asking much of this summer. I want to enjoy myself, after what can only be defined as 6 months of torture. I want to spend as much time with my friends as possible, as I will going to college in Dublin and they will be facing into exams themselves. I want to drink copious amounts and inevitably puke on myself - again. I wish to attend every concert under the sun, and travel: the thoughts of spending my summer in this small (and equally small-minded) shithole feels me with dread. I will work, and, in turn, waste spend all my money on frivolous items. I am not a person who buys into the idea of having 'no regrets'. My whole life is basically a tidy collection of regrets big and small. I can only hope that I won't add too many more to my list this summer. I want to laugh loudly and not have to be sorry about it. I want this summer to teach me more about the world and myself than 5 years of education ever could.

This summer will be the ultimate learning curve. As a 17 year old with a seven year old mind with a fantastic memory, but lacking in 'street smarts', I need to learn my place, and ultimately, make better decisions, in order to succeed in college and beyond.

Not entirely sure how I'm supposed to study for that, mind ...


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