Finishing college: what it really feels like.

**a photo from Jilly’s beautiful home that didn’t make the final journal cut.


Last Tuesday I had my final assessment ever in NCAD. We each had a thirty minute hot date with the four main tutors from our department (all men, all pretty nice/encouraging bar one uninterested party) where we had to talk them through the research and implementation phases of the project…basically, you know, a whole year of work.

I was so nervous.

But here’s the thing with going to college and having a job and talking on the phone even though you totally hate it, there’s no choice. It has to be done. And so despite my racing heart and sweaty palms and the ridiculous “what if” scenarios playing out in my mind I knew that I had to walk into the room, stand next to my table and talk for thirty minutes. The sound of your own voice starts to feel foreign after about five minutes. You begin to wonder if your sentences are actually making any sense. You fumble and make bad jokes that no one laughs at.

And then it’s over. Just like that. The past year has gone by quicker than I could have imagined. Those thirty minutes felt more like thirty seconds.

I breathed and smiled and said ‘fuck it, it’s over.’ Because it is.

I’ve spent the last three days sleeping and socialising and drinking and moping and feeling all the feelings that go along with endings. An anti climax and all that.

My friend Gwen asked me how it felt to be ‘free’ and I responded with ‘totally exhausted and feeling kind of bummed.’ To my surprise she agreed and said she was in ‘the worst mood ever.’ That made me laugh. It’s funny how you can work so hard on something and feel so, so ready for it all to be over…but then once it ends you can barely muster up any excitement.

Do you ever get like that? I know once I get into the swing of summer I’ll feel peachy, but right now I just want to curl up and take a long nap. Which is exactly what I’m going to do tonight, once I’ve finished work!


PS: What it felt like to finish college last year. 

Mothers.

Ever since I did that little job for The Women’s Museum of Ireland I have been thinking about women and education.

In my class in college there are more girls than there are boys. More women than there are men. Yet when I look into my field, actual designers, in actual studios and at actual conferences all I see are men. Last year at Offset there were only two female speakers out of a total of twenty-four. It was embarrassingly disproportionate. Thankfully this year was a little better. There were seven. Is that better? Do I also need to mention that Offset was founded and is run by a team of men? *
Obviously there can’t be equality for equality’s sake. Obviously it’s about talent. It’s about reflecting what’s out there in the field. Yet still, looking around at my class, I am left thinking where will all these women go? I can’t help but wonder if any of us will ever end up on that stage speaking about our successful careers. I hope.

I often feel like a whole mess of contradictions…believing that women should go to college, have jobs, be leaders, breastfeed their babies, stay home with their toddlers, walk their kids to school, be creative and fulfil their own needs and desires and and and… have it all.

I know that this isn’t possible. I know that there is no right way to do this thing called life. There is not one single way to be a good mother or to be a good person.

I have been thinking a lot about the mothers in my life. The women who, along with my flesh and blood mama, have raised me, taught me, hugged me and guided me to where I stand now. Katherine who minded me while my own mother was away studying, taught me that the middle of the apple is the sweetest part and helped me learn to spell the word ‘syrup’. My aunt Nóirín taught me not to worry about jobs because the one I might end up could probably doesn’t even exist yet. Rachel, my godchild, taught me to be a pretend mama long before the thought of being a real one had crossed my mind. Mary and Trisha my mother’s sisters taught me that it’s never too late to go back to school, you’re never too old to learn.

For my final (college) project this year I am photographing as many of these women, these mothers, as I can and compiling them into a zine. I am also asking them to tell me what the most important thing they ever learned was. So far the responses have been fascinating. I am doing this for many reasons, and they keep changing as I research and tell people about it, but mainly I think I am doing it to remind myself that there is not a single path that one has to take and that success has many, many, different definitions.



PS That’s my mother on the right and my aunt Trisha on the left holding my cousin Ailbhe. Monica is holding Cillian and Aoife is the kid in yellow. 80s clothes are hairstyles are the bees knees. Also seriously accidental colour coordination going on.



*Sidenote: I don’t hate men, they are great! I love them! My boyfriend is the coolest! But women are great too. That’s all. 

Today.

Photo of Lily by Richard.


Sometimes beginning the day anxious about the number of things on your to-do list means ending the day with lots of them crossed off. Sometimes waking to a messy kitchen and piles of dishes means that all the washing in the house gets done. Sometimes minding a clinging sad baby means that you get to go for a longer-than-expected walk in the freezing cold with your favourite person. Sometimes not getting to eat lunch until four means that dinner turns out to be a delicious scavenger hunt of the fridge/freezer.  Sometimes the days where you start out feeling more than a little snowed under end with calm and relaxation.

Sometimes the days where things are most unorganised end with things most organised.

Today was like that. And I am thankful for my clean and tidy house, my clean clothes, my beautiful boyfriend and those 700 words I managed to bang out on the keyboard for my essay this evening. Today was definitely a shit day turned good. I am thankful, and happy.

PS This week’s /52 be a little late :)

PPS If you’d like to see my latest Illustration Friday posts have a looksie over here!

Alone

There was a moment on Tuesday night, as I looked out into the dark evening from an unfamiliar bus driving down familiar streets that I realised no one knew where I was. The friend I had just left could have speculated as to my whereabouts, be it waiting for the bus or somewhere along its route through town but she could not have known for sure. Neither could my boyfriend who was at work or my family who were —I suspect—at home. An overwhelming sense of freedom and independence washed over me as I came to this strange realisation. I smiled.

I have always wanted to be further, better, older, ahead of the game, and have written about it before. I have always craved the independence and nonchalance of doing my own thing. The frivolous fact that no one knew where I was made me a little bit excited…like I could go anywhere or do anything and no one would ever know. Truth be told I went home (to my brother’s, where I am house-sitting with Richard) and hung up the washing and watched TV and went to bed. Is that boring? Maybe. But it makes me feel like a real person. A person who cooks and cleans and looks after herself and is content with or without company.

At the moment I feel as if I am only pretending to be a real person. This make-believe life I am living is only a mere glimpse of things to come. Of course without bills or mortgages or taxes to pay this playing-house is more than a little bit rose-tinted. Yet still, I cannot let go of the romantic notion of creating a life as opposed to living in someone else’s. 

*double exposure of me by Richard.

a summer

I love the green. I can’t get enough of the green. I want to be in the green. I’d like to throw some clothes in a bag, pack up something to eat and escape to the forest or the mountains or the beach for endless days and nights of foraging, sunbathing, hiking and relaxing. It sounds nice, doesn’t it? It sounds calm, doesn’t it? Of course so long as the weather is warm and the flies are, well, non-existant. It sounds ridiculously unattainable like some American novel or something, doesn’t it? (It also sounds like I need a car and a license, doesn’t it? I’m working on that one, really)

I haven’t had any grand adventures yet this summer, I didn’t move to New York, or trek across Thailand or work in San Francisco or even spend endless time on a beach doing nothing at all. Instead I ran errands, went shopping, ate frozen yogurt with my friends, jumped into the icy Irish sea (just the once!), baked with my godchild, watched films, read books, played intense games of sibling scrabble, drank fancy ciders and ice white wine, rocked a baby to sleep (many, many, many times) and spent hours walking the dog. It might sound boring, and it probably is, but it has been pretty nice hanging out at home and having the time to do whatever I like. There will be an adventure, soon I hope. But even if it doesn’t work out, I will be happy. There won’t be many more summers like this—chilling out with not a care in the world. I am thankful for this.



What about you? How are you spending your summer? I’d love to know.