Acceptance is the hardest thing to do, but acceptance DOES set you free. After a strenuous week of Meetups and chores, my employment advisor made me realise that I am PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE of working full time. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I am managing okay, as it is, in my life.
Last Thursday I attended a Coffee event in Belfast run by Specialisterne. We explained to an organiser, originally from Seattle, that French Fries were Belgian and served to US Soldiers in WWI by Walloons. Net Neutrality was also discussed. Shame the Verizon Lobby won that vote. 😦
With one week to go until Christmas, I wanna take it easy until the new year. My brother came home last night and this afternoon I found out that his old mentor from the SUSE Program’s gran died during the weekend and I went over to the wake with a mass card. Thank God the weather this afternoon was mild. The road the wake was at is in the arsehole of nowhere.
Also, I thought of freelance writing as a career option. But that proved to be just another cosmetic expense. At the moment I wanna focus on being social and my artwork.
Ladt Friday I attended a painting session in Dun Laoghaire. On the train back to Portadown there was a guy with a Christmas Jumper saying, “Merry Chris-Marx!” Another Champagne Socialist in Ireland. lol
My employment advisor is arranging for me to get a job through the workable program, at a new place opening in Toomebridge. Hopefully, that will provide me with much-needed income. It seems that those who want to work suffer, while those who don’t want to work profit. Bizarro World, indeed.
I need to spend as little time as possible on Facebook. It’s like a Vampire, sucking the lifeblood out of one. Fanboys see no other opinion other than their own. Don’t drink ANY political Kool-Aid; be it Tory or Labour.
Last Tuesday I attended a short guided tour of Monkstown Castle, as part of a Meetup. The Wednesday prior I had booked an online day return from Portadown to Dublin and back for £10 – Cheap as Chips – but I booked a taxi from outside Connolly Station and the car we were in kept dying out whenever we approached traffic lights. It was a fuel-efficient automatic. (thanks ever so much Al Bloody Gore) But I saw a burgundy Peugeot turning at a junction at Blackrock – unsure of the road – and nearly running straight into a cyclist in a yellow jacket. There, for the grace of God, go I.
The tour itself was dominated by the random musings of the organiser’s ten-year-old son. He probably has Asperger’s. But I chipped in with some tidbits of information. In the end, I really needed the loo and went to a Chinese Restaurant named Victoria – probably after the Capital of Hong Kong – Then I had just enough for a DART from Monkstown to Connolly and was able to board an earlier train back to Northern Ireland than planned. However, I didn’t have to pay extra thanks to me informing the conductor I was worried that the park where my car is might be locked at night.
My brother is back in Derry for his second year of University, he has placement year sorted as well, and now I have the place to myself. That both gladdens and saddens me. But I will soon be getting proper broadband, once I receive a 4G SIM from EE, and will hope to return to designing websites.