It has been a while, dear friends. How many years? Too many to count I fear. I’d like to blame the pandemic (the fall guy for everything these days) but alas, my blogging career ended well before then. When I say ended I mean, quietly shrivelled up, slowly rolling itself into an old carpet and shuffling away to the room of lost things, waiting for me to look it’s way once again and remember the joy it once gave. Well…dah dah dah dah dah! Today is that day.
And as I write this I suddenly remember how strange and therapeutic this whole malarkey is. Strange in that I feel like I am addressing people (dare I say it – my audience!…notions eh?) but I know I could be just pissing in the wind, shouting into an empty barrel and talking to myself, alone in the woods like that poor bear who heard the tree fall but people thought he had lost his bloody marbles. But even if I am writing love letters to myself it is damn therapeutic and I shall continue to do so until – a. I lose interest again, b. I run out of time for it or c. I am discovered and thus propelled into stardom and grandeur whereby I shall employ a minion to do the blogging for me.
But, until that happens I am happy to be here. Happy to be writing. My book is still not finished. I completed the first draft, realised it was shit, had an existential crisis and cast the book aside into the burning fires of hell (well, a folder on my desktop) from whence it has mocked and sneered me from that day to this. But in recent months I have pulled up my big girl pants, given myself a swift kick in the vagjooja and begun draft two. And surprisingly enough I have discovered that my book is not in fact complete and utter drivel and nonsense. I have something here, something solid to work with and I have found some faith in myself which always helps. This faith I think has come from a few places. From within – I have taken a journey of self discovery and meditation (I knew those harem pants would serve me again some day) and I have found some self-belief which is slowly but surely leading to the demise of my imposter syndrome. From my work – a few years back I started script writing for an Irish Language TV series and I am still there, working with a group of lovely and talented people and discovering that this script writing lark is bloody cool and deadly and that I ain’t half bad at it. From my BFF – yes I am in my late forties and have a BFF so there! This lady has encouraged and believed in me since I met her and we have recently begun to work together on our own TV series which is going to be fucking class! From my family – who take advantage of me and run me ragged (hey, I chose to have 5 kids so I am partially to blame for this), but who build me up and remind me of how special I am (not in a mental sense…I think…), especially my other half, who has such faith that I am going to be a massive success that he is already planning his retirement. From my 92 year old neighbour – who became my friend during the pandemic and who fills me with home made wine twice a week in return for bleadair and chat, laughs and craic. This man is 92 years young and thinks I am the bees knees and the dogs bollix so who I am to disagree?
All this has led me to here, back to my little aul blog. I’m going to melt yizzirs heads with all my ramblings and ravings but sure when I’m famous yiz can all say yiz knew me when I was nothing.