Do I have stupid written on my forehead?

Can you recall what life was like before this craziness started? Nope? Neither can I. There is a bit of mental derailing going on right now. Fatigue is back with a vengeance. I am so excellent in not sleeping well, that when I do, it’s a reason to organise a party, or rather, a pyjama […]

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Oh, snap!

“Also, because of the long, warm summer days, Uhthoff’s Symptoms, also referred to as Phenomenon or heat sensitivity, means that I am rather slow in the upstairs department, which eventually lead to predicament B. My days are unquestionably not dull nor tranquil, so.”

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Use it or lose it!

“I much prefer a writer’s slow process from that one, flickering half a sentence in my head to it eventually making it into my handbag’s notebook or onto the internet. After all, writing in Ireland is a national illness, or a survival instinct of sorts. A lot of ideas come to me by my own form of public crowdsourcing; listening to people and picking up a few words here or there, thinking those words could eventually become a new piece.”

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Making sense of MS

“Even with forced rest breaks and scheduling tasks around my MS, I still have a way of falling asleep in the most unusual poses and ways. If I were to introduce you to my mum, she could keep you up all night with my falling asleep antics. Of course, she’d still be talking to you, while I ungracefully slump over, drop books, am asleep within the first 3 to 5 minutes, sleep through loud fireworks, airplanes or my own house alarm blaring loudly. Like my nana always used to say, “When you do something, you have to do it properly.”

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Volunteering, a worthy cause

“In fact, for anyone interested in volunteering, research shows it can be beneficial in improving mood, self-esteem and quality of life, and in reducing stress, pain and depression. It also shows that ill people who volunteer, become better at managing their own illness in turn and volunteering can strengthen their immune system.”

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My brother

A small, black leather wallet. Used, worn and carrying the scent of the jeans my brother used to wear. A plectrum, faded by the many songs he played on his bass guitar. Memories. Too many to fill my mind at once. Love. Too deep to ever forget he was my brother, my only sibling.

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James Joyce, Bloomsday and onions

Last Saturday Ireland celebrated Bloomsday, a day that stands out each year because of the many faces Irish people, foreign residents and visitors alike give it. For those unknown to what Bloomsday is, Leopold Bloom is the main character in James Joyce’s Ulysses. The story was set in and around Dublin on June 16th, 1904. […]

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