In the last week, what have I learned?
I've learned how to give feedback, how to give my opinion, and how to negotiate. I've learned how great it is to be in a class where everyone knows the answer, and most importantly, where everyone wants to know the answer!
I've learned how versatile the colour black is, and how it is so important not to judge on first impressions.
I've realised how great it is to feel like I'm actually doing something productive with my life again. I've re-learned how good it feels to be a part of a group of people all aiming at the same thing; all with the same goals in mind. Well, almost the same goals.
I've also learned that there are so many lovely people in the world. One must not get so blinded by the bad that they become ignorant of the good.
Most importantly though, I've learned how foolish girls can be when a handsome, charming, older man is around. Our lecturer is a complete sweetheart. As you can imagine, most of the girls are having trouble acting sensibly. I'm not in any way denying that I find him lovely...I do. But, I like to think that I'm not really the 'throwing myself at a lecturer' type of girl. Sadly though, many don't seem to share this belief. Ah, the results are amusing to say the least. It's like a little social experiment, which I am more than happy to observe; and perhaps even encourage, if only for my own entertainment!
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Liz Farrelly: On Dublin
As a little something different, I asked my cousin Liz Farrelly to write a little feature for my blog. She's just moved up to Dublin to go to Trinity, and well, I think I'll let her fill you in on the rest!
"Good God…Dublin is most definitely NOT a fair city. I’ve been invited by Zena to sit down here and rant away about whatever takes my fancy, and for once, I can only think of one thing that’s pissing me off at the moment. Like Zena, I’ve just moved up to Dublin, and even though I’ve only been pounding the pavements of the city for a week, I’ve found something about the place that I hate. The people.
“Eow my Gawd!,” I hear you scoff. “What a statement! She couldn’t possibly hate all the people in Dublin!” But I’m afraid it’s true. Yes, Dublin is diverse. Yes, Dublin is a melting pot of cultures. Yes, Dublin is full to the brim with a positive pick’n’mix selection of different types of unique and special individuals. And yes, I hate them all.
Now, society in Dublin doesn’t work under the usual ‘lower-, middle- and upper-class’ system. To be brutal with you, everybody here is lower class. The only difference between people is how comfortable they are with that status.
First off, you’ve got the ones who are completely, utterly (and perhaps ignorantly) comfortable with being on the bottom rung. You’ll spot them quite easily; they’ll be the ones belting into you in the street without apologising, the ones toting a fine selection of Champion Sports, Pound City and Guineys bags onto the bus at the end of an evening, and the ones for whom a form of multi-tasking is managing to rob you blind whilst dangling a fag from their mouth, screeching at the infant wrapped around their leg and pushing a double buggy down Henry St.
The ‘Dublin middle-class’ is the most frustrating group by far. They are an infuriating herd of people who are desperately scrambling to get away from the caravan, but are incapable of quite catching up with the BMW. They can be slightly more difficult to spot than the other groups; masters of deception they certainly are. They weave tentatively between the two groups, not wanting to appear “lah-di-dah” while, at the same time, being completely unwilling to quietly slip into their place in the dole queue. You’ll probably find them studying Commerce or Computer Science at UCD. A real degree, with none of that ‘poncey Trinners shit’. Will most certainly end up on the Luas back and forth from Ranelagh every day, under fluorescent lights in a suffocating office until they finally get promoted to Department Managing Director or Director of Department Managing or something, and they finally get a reason to throw a dinner party so they and their friends can sit around and pretend to like organic butternut squash and hate George Bush. Roll on the Rosé…
Then you’ve got the cream of the crop; the ‘Dublin upper-class’. Ironically, these are the biggest charity case of the three, for the simple reason that you just have to pity these guys. I mean, they seem to really believe that they’re a cut above the rest. From what I can figure, this is a brief history of the typical evolution from ‘middle-’ to ‘upper-’ class. Somewhere along the line, Mary and Patrick (married at 26, after meeting in their UCD Commerce course) came into some money (I think Patrick got a promotion in the Department of Directing Managers). They upped sticks and headed out to Dawkey, where little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal were born and bred. Here they led a life filled with coffee mornings, The Sunday Times, rounds of golf and Gaelscoils (“I mean, of coooouwrse we want them to learn about their heritage…it’s just seooow important nowadays”). The upper-classes are usually reserved, in other societies, for ‘old money’. And the thing about ‘old money’ is that, usually, it’s so ‘old’ that the people know how to deal with it by this stage. But herein lies the problem. Money in Ireland is far too new to ever be ‘old’. Any real wealth in this country can only be traced back two or three generations, so bless us, the novelty hasn’t quite worn off yet. And of course, little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal will certainly be going to Trinity. Only the very best! Look, I hate to be negative (that’s a lie), but these are the people I’m going to be sharing the next four years of my life with; A city of a million people in various stages of delusion about their social status. A bunch of skangers in BT’s clothing. They’ll be asking me for change in the street, they’ll be giving me change in high-street shops, they’ll be teaching their kids to save their pocket money change and use it to start their pension schemes (“You can never start too early!”). So yes, I hate to be negative…but with these people, can you blame me?"
"Good God…Dublin is most definitely NOT a fair city. I’ve been invited by Zena to sit down here and rant away about whatever takes my fancy, and for once, I can only think of one thing that’s pissing me off at the moment. Like Zena, I’ve just moved up to Dublin, and even though I’ve only been pounding the pavements of the city for a week, I’ve found something about the place that I hate. The people.
“Eow my Gawd!,” I hear you scoff. “What a statement! She couldn’t possibly hate all the people in Dublin!” But I’m afraid it’s true. Yes, Dublin is diverse. Yes, Dublin is a melting pot of cultures. Yes, Dublin is full to the brim with a positive pick’n’mix selection of different types of unique and special individuals. And yes, I hate them all.
Now, society in Dublin doesn’t work under the usual ‘lower-, middle- and upper-class’ system. To be brutal with you, everybody here is lower class. The only difference between people is how comfortable they are with that status.
First off, you’ve got the ones who are completely, utterly (and perhaps ignorantly) comfortable with being on the bottom rung. You’ll spot them quite easily; they’ll be the ones belting into you in the street without apologising, the ones toting a fine selection of Champion Sports, Pound City and Guineys bags onto the bus at the end of an evening, and the ones for whom a form of multi-tasking is managing to rob you blind whilst dangling a fag from their mouth, screeching at the infant wrapped around their leg and pushing a double buggy down Henry St.
The ‘Dublin middle-class’ is the most frustrating group by far. They are an infuriating herd of people who are desperately scrambling to get away from the caravan, but are incapable of quite catching up with the BMW. They can be slightly more difficult to spot than the other groups; masters of deception they certainly are. They weave tentatively between the two groups, not wanting to appear “lah-di-dah” while, at the same time, being completely unwilling to quietly slip into their place in the dole queue. You’ll probably find them studying Commerce or Computer Science at UCD. A real degree, with none of that ‘poncey Trinners shit’. Will most certainly end up on the Luas back and forth from Ranelagh every day, under fluorescent lights in a suffocating office until they finally get promoted to Department Managing Director or Director of Department Managing or something, and they finally get a reason to throw a dinner party so they and their friends can sit around and pretend to like organic butternut squash and hate George Bush. Roll on the Rosé…
Then you’ve got the cream of the crop; the ‘Dublin upper-class’. Ironically, these are the biggest charity case of the three, for the simple reason that you just have to pity these guys. I mean, they seem to really believe that they’re a cut above the rest. From what I can figure, this is a brief history of the typical evolution from ‘middle-’ to ‘upper-’ class. Somewhere along the line, Mary and Patrick (married at 26, after meeting in their UCD Commerce course) came into some money (I think Patrick got a promotion in the Department of Directing Managers). They upped sticks and headed out to Dawkey, where little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal were born and bred. Here they led a life filled with coffee mornings, The Sunday Times, rounds of golf and Gaelscoils (“I mean, of coooouwrse we want them to learn about their heritage…it’s just seooow important nowadays”). The upper-classes are usually reserved, in other societies, for ‘old money’. And the thing about ‘old money’ is that, usually, it’s so ‘old’ that the people know how to deal with it by this stage. But herein lies the problem. Money in Ireland is far too new to ever be ‘old’. Any real wealth in this country can only be traced back two or three generations, so bless us, the novelty hasn’t quite worn off yet. And of course, little Orlaith, Darragh and Cathal will certainly be going to Trinity. Only the very best! Look, I hate to be negative (that’s a lie), but these are the people I’m going to be sharing the next four years of my life with; A city of a million people in various stages of delusion about their social status. A bunch of skangers in BT’s clothing. They’ll be asking me for change in the street, they’ll be giving me change in high-street shops, they’ll be teaching their kids to save their pocket money change and use it to start their pension schemes (“You can never start too early!”). So yes, I hate to be negative…but with these people, can you blame me?"
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