I always lose socks and I have no idea how it happens. In Vancouver, I was pretty sure the dryer ate them because it was a beast of a machine. But there is no way our puny little tumble dryer here in Lisburn is eating clothes. So where do they go? I buy them in pairs. I fold them in pairs and put them in a special drawer known as my sock drawer. I wear them in pairs. I take them off in pairs. I put them INTO the washing machine in pairs and somewhere between this point and taking them out of the tumble dryer one part of these pairs goes missing. On my last count, which was this morning, I had 11 single socks without their significant others.

WHERE ARE ALL THE SOCKS? And in true Christian fashion, how can I apply this anecdote to everyday life?

Paris in a nutshell.

Eiffel Tower...impressive.

Champs de Ellyses...beautiful

Notre Dame...breathtaking.

Latin Quarter...character.

Amy's Book Shop...Quirky.

RER system...smelly.

Amy's hosting abilities...mama would be proud.

Tree's...that steal hats. Jamaican willow trees.

Late night banter...unforgettable.

Ridiculously early alarms....snoooooooooooooze.

Disney...magical.

Thunder Mountain, Indiana Mountain, SPACE MOUNTAIN...Epic.

Peter Pan...Gey.

Mad Hatter Tea Cups....GET OUT OF THE CUP WITH YOUR HANDS........UP!

Parades and lights and Christmas trees...soooooo good.

I heart Paris. Totally worth the crazy early mornings and rollercoaster back pains and general coldness. A very awesome start to Christmas.

Twilight isn't a love story. It's an obsession story.

I think black Christmas tree's are kind of cool.

I have a playlist of songs on my ipod that I imagine playing in the background at different moments in my life.

The best feelings in the world include sneezing, clean dry socks, fleecy blankets, and a really great parking job.

I fly to Paris in T-36hrs.

Inspired by a green mango.

Reasons not to date me.

1. I will avoid walking at all costs. When I do walk, I will cross the street as many times as necessary to stay on the sunny side despite safety, time or inconvience. Also if I have to send a text whilst walking, I don't know if you could classify it as walking anymore.

2. I will be late to most things. Even without excessive street crossing.

3. There is a wierd collection of piles all over my bedroom due to my inability to put things away where they belong. It's like little magic tidying fairies come into my room each night and pile everything up trying to tell me in a nice way to clean the flipping place up.

4. I love chocolate, frozen yoghurt, nachos and spaghetti but I hate hot chocolate, ice-cream, cheese and pizza.

5. My wedding song will be a Celine Dion song. Possibly one of the french ones. And I will know all the words, pronunciation and all.

6. I'm serious about that last bullet point.

7. There is an ever increasing list of words that I strongly dislike-some are random and some are justified. This list may or may not include words such as nipple, loaf, moist, crusty, embellish.

8. If you say 'ttyl' or 'whatever' or 'wtf' or 'bbz' to me, I'll take it personally and possibly terminate a relationship.

9. I'm really serious about that last bullet point.

10. I spend time writing blog entries on reason why people shouldn't date me.

Christmas is just around the corner and it feels like it. This week has been another funny one, full of ups and downs and surprises and knock backs. It's almost like a busy waiting room. I know I'll be seen to soon, I just don't know how long I have to wait. And in the meantime, I guess I better find something to do instead of getting bored and frustrated.

I don't know about you guys but I don't mind waiting rooms. It's a really good time to plug into your ipod, stop and think and watch the people around you. It's like choosing to walk on a beautiful day instead of driving. Or choosing to stay in on a Friday night. I love to listen to songs that remind me of people or good times, or songs that motivate you or songs that you can make up really good day dreams to. I love to send a text to somebody that I haven't spoken to in a long time or take notes on interesting things around me that I could write about or lately write letters to people who aren't around.

It's a really refreshing experience which is why it's not as bad as I first thought to be in a dip because my peaks gonna come. I'm gonna get the guy, the job and the opportunity that's right for me. I just gotta wait my turn.

"Feels like letting go" Matthew Perryman Jones
"To build a home" Cinematic Orchestra
"Come and Worship" Bebo Norman
"Hosanna" Hillsongs
"Start a War" The National

But that doesn't mean I don't want the doc to hurry up. My on-the-go playlist is going to end real soon!

Awk lawds I suck on the blog front these days. But I'm going to take it serious again. Maybe. It's a little like facebook status updates.....there are too many possibilities and I am no good at making decisions. So I just don't make one. I guess I could tell you about how stoked I am about Christmas or my trip to Paris or my friends hen day or the Backstreet Boys concert on Thu. but why not just write about it when it actually happens. I could tell y'all that this is my 161st post on my blog which is pretty epic. It's my longest relationship ever. I could blog about X Factor but I'm already bored of hearing peeps complain about it. Don't get me wrong, I agree but don't want to write about it.

Which leaves me with Friday night. It's dark and raining. I get out of work 2 hours later than usual and people are annoying me left right centre and all in between. I pull up in my drive way with a long Friday night ahead of me and take a notion to just drive. I grab an overnight bag, my ipod, jump in the car and head towards Fermanagh. Just the process of driving in the opposite direction to Lisburn accompanied by really loud music was the best therapy ever. All you therapy junkies out there....spend your money on a car and an iTunes account instead. When I got to little Lisnaskea I was content. I was able to leave the shit in the back seat for a bit. No internet, no phone signal and only terrestrial TV. It was fantastic and I only wish I could have stayed but Lisburn was calling.

I won't make a habit of wasting petrol but it is what I needed. Amy if you're out there come back and drive with me please.

I'm burnt out and wasted. I'm tired of pacing. Busy erasing voices in my head and knots in my stomach. Everything changed and people became faceless. But I want to replace this wasted attitude. I want to believe that people are good and not manipulating or deceptive.

Have I been a sinner? Yes. Have I been a lover? Yes. Have I been a killer? Yes. Have I been a victim? Yes. This world is completely alien...I want to escape it, or embrace it. I keep re-arranging everything I know, it's the only thing I know how to do. I'm in a strange, strange place but they say that even fools can find their way out of the dark.

Jenson Button is like totally F1 world champion. I'm ashamed to admit that I have still not watched it, but I have been waiting since the tender age of 14 for him to do it. Ever since I first saw him on TFI Friday with Chris Evans, photocopied his picture out of a magazine and stuck it on the inside of my school folder...when I was 14. That was 9 years ago.

Perseverance and Integrity. He totally beat the "man". I love it when the "man" gets beat.

I'm reading a course in youth work this semester. It's what I should have been studying back when I left school. But it's on weekends. Driving to college @ 9am on a Sunday is unatural...I think I saw tumbleweed roll along the Malone Road. And it means that today was not only Monday, but day 8 on the slow moving train to a land of days off.

But this is not the point, surprisingly. On Sat morning, I was asked/forced to answer a sheet of reflective questions. The type of questions everybody hates to think about because you know the answer in your head but not in actual written words that make sense. Why do you want to do youth work? Why do you want to work with young peeps where you do? What are your personal values and how do they impact your youth work?...that's the biggie, my 'personal' values. I'd rather you give me a sheet of calculus to complete. Whilst thinking really hard about the answer, I had to remind myself I was taking an academic course and not group therapy. Had I been tricked???

No. But seriously, and I promise you'll rarely hear me positively feedback on such exercises, it was good. Like suddenly braking in a fast moving car at a big dirty red light. Forced to stop and rethink your speed....what's more important.....getting to your destination quicker or staying safe? I was reminded of what I personally value the most and it helped me realize and understand a little better the reason and the way I react to some things and don't react to others.

And what is it I value the most?

Resilience, Relationships and 2-way accountability rooted in faith and love the best I can.

Sometimes you have to laugh at life. It's a fairly normal afternoon at after schools club (which still needs a name...the board of governor's didn't approve the WHS prep petting zoo), when I look to the door expecting another late parent worrying about a traffic warden sticking a ticket on their beamer. And here's the funny/tragic/sends a cinematic shudder across the floor part....there's my social worker standing in the doorway.

Behind me, there's one kid lying on the floor cause he just fell of his seat, one kid passed out on the beanbags face down after hockey practice, girls hiding from their parents under the tables and Max playing cards with his imaginary friend Ziggy.

The mental image is hilarious I'll admit, and I'm pretty sure my facial expression was comical perfection but there was awkwardness, and a time delay and a little stuttering.

This woman scares me more than my own mother.

Thankfully the next hour went relatively successfully if you delete the lengthy conversations regarding hand sanitizer, anti-bacterials and using dots instead of x's in the attendance records. But the fact remains that this short little lady will haunt me for the remainder of this year and has the power to fire me at any point for any reason....like using an anti-bacterial spray that kills only 99.5% of bacterias as supposed to 99.9%

C'est la vie...

The state of my life in general can often be gauged by the state of my bedroom. If it's too clean you can be pretty sure that I am distracting myself. Pretending to be tidy and organized but I'm not. Pretending that I'm ok. On the other end hand, if my room is ridiculously messy, you can be certain that I'm too pissed off or upset or bored to even bother anymore. Lying on the floor amidst the mess seems like a better option. Quitting completely vs Pretending.

So looking around me right now, my bed isn't made, I'm wearing the same clothes as last night listening to Lifehouse, there is a basket of clean laundry waiting to be folded that has been there since Monday, DVDs are everywhere and the cases are somewhere else, there is a pile of hangers right in the middle of the floor and if I try to hang anything else on the back of my door I won't be able to get in the door. Nothing I own has a lid on, drawers are just open, my lampshade is crooked and I could open a cafe with the number of coffee cups lying around.

Is this a cryptic enough way to tell y'all that life is shite?

Where is God?

It's been a pretty long time since I posted. When in actual fact I have started to write numerous posts without publishing. It would actually be incredibly hard to blog everyday. I'm not in a place to offer any pearls of wisdom or nuggets of advice. Very few appropriate funny things have happened me of late. None of y'all want to hear about what irritates me these days because the list is endless...a little like my to-do list!

I'm stuck in that really annoying intro to the song. There's the beat and a vague tune in the background but there's a good 60secs before you hit the good stuff. But you're driving and can't fast forward on the ipod so you have to listen to it. Nothing to sing along too, nothing to dance too, just cruising and waiting (semi) patiently!

THIS IS EXACTLY WHERE MY LIFE IS AT.

A colleague advised me to write a short book all about Tuesdays today. I must complain about them more than I realize. Today alone, I can confidently conclude that the best way to survive the Tuesday blues is to avoid...

1. Getting on the wrong side of a friend. Tuesday is bad enough with adding out of date salt to the chips.

2. Buying DVD players that stop working on Tuesday morning during Friends. Especially when you just got your hands on the full seasons 1-10 on boxset.

3. Wearing skinny jeans with pumps to work where you play tennis and soccer on a regular basis.

4. Watching all your weekend TV on Monday. You have no choice but to embrace the Tuesday so you may as well save something to pass the time.

5. Going home at all costs. If your name is debs, 23yrs old, capricorn, likes sushi....then the quality of your mood correlates indirectly with the number of hours spent at home in the day.

I want to tell you about a little guy, Ned, aged 4, blonde hair and blue eyes.

He is the first kid that turns up to program, and the last kid to leave. He was the first kid I met and not one day goes by where he doesn't make me smile. Every t shirt he owns has the word 'surf' on front and he likes to slide over the floor telling everybody to "look at my belly". He likes to throw cookies at brand new computer screens and every new person that comes through the door he likes to grab onto, tell secrets too and make his new best friend. He likes to start something new every 5mins and likes to use scissors in every activity, including basketball. He thinks to score a goal in soccer you have to throw the ball and the goalie has to catch it. He likes to play badminton but the racket he uses is taller than he is. He paints outside the lines. He makes me read a story about Noddy and a bunch of chickens everyday. So far he has introduced me to 7 imaginary friends, all called Ziggy and he doesn't have an indoor voice.

I really wish I was 4 again and that the only thing I had to worry about was having enough time to play with Ziggy before bed at 7:30pm!

The Boomerang Generation.

Basically this is the official term for those of us who have been forced back home after years of freedom because we have no money. We are broke because of student loans and overdrafts, we can't get jobs because there institutions are firing instead of hiring and in the years leading up to financial crisis, we have grown accustomed to a consumerist lifestyle that we can no longer support. I'll admit that I took student loans un-necessarily and now I'm paying the price.

Here's some facts......to get on the property ladder today, I would need about £40,ooo deposit. I have round about £17,000 student debt. The average starting salary for a graduate is £24,000. I still have one more year of school to put myself through so do the maths and work out potentially how long it could be before I get out of here! Thank goodness for renting.

I paint a very dull picture but it's not all bad. The practical advantages of living at home probably far outweigh the disadvantages. But it messes with your headspace. The independance that you lose is a hard hit, and I struggle to find ways to maintain that independance and the maturity that stems from that. But at the end of the day I share a car and a house with my family, similar to when I was at school. When I have done so much since school. Somedays it feels like all my adventures since turning 18 were a dream!

But for now, I'm happy enough and I will work my way through the year and make a tiny dent in the debt. There is little use worrying about it because it's not going to go away!

Today my facebook status stood as "Monday should be an adjective". It's a word that embodies many many things but I think I nailed it. I just sat staring out my window for 16 minutes and 13secs without even realizing. I know this for certain because I listened to Jimmy Eat World's Goobye Sky harbour completely. I never get past the first 5mins, but, because it is Monday I was able to because I was tired, the weekend is still too far away to get excited about, I was bored and generally life was so completely un-interesting that there was nothing better to do. I was Monday. The world was Monday. In simpler terms....

Mondays is likened to a disease. Have you caught a case of the Mondays? Like mumps. Or sniffles.

If Monday was a CD.....Daniel Powter Bad day, Eminem Kill You, Terra Naomi Vicodin Song, Blurry Puddle of Mudd.

If Monday was a color it would be mustard.

If Monday was a pair of shoes it would be loafers.

But, at the end of the day...Tuesdays are actually worse!

Rage. Anxiety. Contentment.

3 feelings, states of mind, emotions that are predominant in my life of late. At any one time, you will find me either completely angry at the world, often instigated by something minor or worried sick about something usually out of my control or simply content to lock myself away in my bedroom and let the world pass by with relatively no bother.

Then you get a big slap in the face. You realize that your being ridiculous raging out at the world because it gets you nowhere and definitely does not bring out the best in you. You realize that there is no point worrying because things work themselves out in the end always. Or reality hits and you have to leave your bedroom and deal with what's outside whether it's people or your job or a to-do list miles long dating back to June.

Call Vodafone.
Call the bank.
Email back the 52 people who contacted you over the summer.
Fill in that pile of forms sitting on the floor beside your desk.
Read the 7 books you bought for summer reading.
Laundry.
Scrub the stain off your carpet that looks like your cat pooped on it.
Sort out all the crap you stuffed under your bed over the summer just to get rid of it.
Stop being lazy and go for a run.
Develop the 693 photo's you've been storing since Christmas.
Take up all your work pants so you don't look like a kid pretending to be an adult at work.
Delete or watch everything you taped on sky plus over the summer.
Write in your journal.

And now I have successfully un-inspired myself to blog.

I start my new job tomorrow. After-Schools Program Supervisor. And I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty nervous and I'm more disappointed that summer is over than excited about program.

I really cannot wait until heaven and a chance to actually understand life on earth. I spend more time confused than I do any other feeling. Sometimes it is angry confused, sometimes it's funny confused and sometimes it is completely clueless confused but it is always confused. I can never work out why some things happen and I can't work why other things don't happen. The littlest things bother me yet the big things don't phase me. Is it me or is it the man? Who has the problem? If it's the man, I'll fight them. And win.

Either way....I need a therapist more this week than I did 2 weeks ago. Or anger management classes.

Today I met a potential suitor. I don't know his name but I do know that he was wearing a striking yellow vest and a red tie with a suspicious yet intriguing odour. He smoothly opened the conversation outside of church, inquiring as to what time the service starts. The service was over. He then asked if I was Ben's girlfriend. Ben is 14 and one of my bestie's little brothers so that was awkward. He then asked Sean if I was his girlfriend and Sean said yes and stroked my head, a little like one would do to a dog. Yellow vest dude then proceeded to say....

"...I know I'm past my sell by date and I'll probably get a slap but if I was 50 years younger I would ask for your phone number..."

This isn't the end of the story. He ran away, a little like geoffrey leonard the paedophile, and we laughed really hard. It was the funniest thing. But yellow vest dude came back out and started to quote Romeo and Julliet to us before running away into the distance without even a name. All I know is that he was great and believed in love at first sight.

I need a therapist.

Young leaders are completely under-estimated in church. They are this amazing untapped resource of fresh outlooks, fresh ideas and fresh grasps on life. When you find yourself in leadership for a few years, without realizing, you enter this downward spiral of cynicism and emotional fatigue. You see young leaders step up to the plate with enthusiasm and passion and you remember a time when you were just like that. You begin to wonder when you lost that and if it is too late to get it back.

Short answer is it's not. The solution is to learn from these new leaders and follow their example. You have built into their lives and now they are stepping out on their own and the tables turn a little bit. They are now friends. Bro's and sista's in Christ for life! Do not think less of them because they are young.

I've been truly inspired by my team in Toronto and I am going to have an outlook makeover. I'm going to pray that God would strip away all that is not of Him like lethargy and indifference and restore my passion and my devotion and my excitement.

"...Keep a close watch on how you live and on your teaching. Stay true to what is right for the sake of your salvation and the salvation of those who hear you." 1 Timothy 4:16

My time in Toronto. In bullet points.

Walking. 2 blisters in the worst places but alot of good conversation time.

Speculation. People like to think they know what is going on but they really don't.

Journals. I love writing in my journal, it's one of the only ways I take time to think through things so to see the team spend time writing in their own journals and others was awesome!

Devos. One of the highlights of everyday. There is something really special when a group of Christians can come together everyday and give something up to God. It is such an integral part of healthy Christian community.

Smellyness. Everybody, girls and boys, had smelly suitcases when we were coming home. Really smelly. I went through an entire bottle of febreeze and I didn't bring enough clothes.

Packed Lunches. Jam sandwiches, yoghurt and fruit vs Bagel with cream cheese. The daily decision.

Ketchup Hair. I use this term to sum up all the ridiculous things that happened, all in good appropriate fun. All the funny little things that, no matter how well you use words, cannot be fully justified in writing.

Tim Hortons. Morning run, afternoon fix and a pick me up in the evening. Large double double thanks.

Tiny Summer Camps. Camp Peace Toronto 17 vs Camp Peace Vancouver 120. It was a very wierd adjustment. But a positive one.

Tattoos. No I didn't get another one but we had lots of fun drawing them on with biro. I can still see outlines all over my legs!

Haunted Churches. I do not know what was going on in that church or who was going on, but bibles open all over the floor, freaky assed music boxes playing in the bathroom, flickering lights and banging shower doors. WIERD.

It's time for a hiatus. It's an american word meaning when one is on a break. One might say that Ross and Rachel were indeed on hiatus.For 5 yrs. What am I doing with my hiatus you might be asking yourself....I'm going to Toronto. With 10 young and awesome youths from my home church. This trip was first envisioned back in November and I cannot believe the time has come.

T-7 hours. Just enough time to pack, have a really hot bath, watch a movie and power nap!

There was an articles in the paper today titles "Blog ideas that always generate a buzz". As a relatively keen blogger with nothing very inspiring to write about, I read further and this is what I learnt.

1. Show off samples or case studies of your most impressive professional work.

I am not a professional.

2. Run a contest and give something interesting to you're readers.

I'm on a budget.

3. Create a list of your favorite/most commented upon posts.

I don't like to live in the past never mind force others to live in my past.

4. Give away the marketing secrets that have made your blog successful.

My blog is not successful. This is why I am reading your article.

5. Walk readers through a day of your life.

I want my readers to stay readers.

6. Ask a question everyone else is afraid to ask?

Does Santa Claus really not exist?

7. Tell a story using pictures.

You mean a photo album?

There were 10 little gems of advice but they used so many big important words that I didn't understand. My philosophy is and always has been, if you have to google every other word of an article, don't read it. And on that note, I guess there's nothing much else to say except don't read silly articles in The Times Culture section when you're looking for inspiration. If I lose any readers due to my lack of inspiration I am writing a strongly worded letter using google and an online thesaurus to The Times. And if they give me a pay out, I will host a contest on my blog with an 'interesting' prize.

There is so much I could write about. My time in Castlerock. Leaving for Toronto in a week. The New Harry Potter movie. The repeated Martin Bashir MJ interview I watched tonight. And for the first time I can remember, there are alot of things going on in my head that I can't write about. But I'm not going to mention any of that right now because there is one particular thing that is niggling away at me.

It's a strange thing to struggle with problems by yourself. I used to be such an extroverted person. In a personality test I took @ Urban Promise, I came out at 89% extroverted. Feeding off other people. Always ready to open up to people about what is bothering me. I trusted people easily.

extrovert; (adj) a personality type characterized by individuals being socially cooperative and liking others. Extroverts are generally outwardly expressive, active, and readily engage in social activities.

This just isn't the case anymore and I'm working through it, trying to figure out whether my personality has in fact changed or if it is something to do with the people I'm feeding off. And that is certainly not an offensive comment, it's a legitimate question. There has to be a reason that all of a sudden, after 23 years of life, that I look forward to time alone and need increasingly more time alone to re-energize.

Even spending time with my laptop is draining my will to stay awake. So I'm going to go and enjoy some time alone.

It has come to my attention that more people than I thought are aware of this little inter-blog on the interwebs. It got me to thinking 'Why do I blog anyway?'. Why have I continued to spend time writing posts for over a year when, as far as I was concerned, I'm the only one reading them? Am I self-centred?

I hope not. I see people and organizations around me keep blogs on what they're passionate about whether it's photography, food or missions and it is a way to keep track of those you can't interact with regularly. The same way fancy people write columns in fancy newspapers and magazines, I write in this little blog. I would much rather read my friends opinions on certain things than somebody I don't know and somebody who does it just because it is their day job. My blog is just a platform to practice the way I write, and to reach a wider audience when I am passionate about a cause or a movement or even a television show! Writing makes me happy and blogging is a way to express myself. We live in a world where we have so many ways that we can express ourselves....music, movies, fashion, writing, dancing, what we study, travelling, volunteering, photography. Why not use these things in positive ways?

And speaking of passion for a movement...a good friend I met in Vancouver has just embarked on an exciting mission to Africa. This guy had a huge impact on my life, mentoring me through my time at Urban Promise and it makes me really sad that its been so long since I've been able to hang out with him. He was supposed to take this trip last summer but it fell through rather last minute but now it is happening, in perfect time and he is keeping a blog of his adventures. So check it out http://jwongs.wordpress.com/

SM09 is over. Done and dusted. And I miss it! Summer Madness is a Christian festival that I always go into with a negative attitude and leave skipping singing cheesy worship songs and loving life and blessing everybody that walks past. God is a funny one! He watches me walk into the festival complaining about everything and everyone, lets me fester for a little while, listens to me talk about it with all my fellows and He knows exactly what He's going to spring on me!

In all seriousness, the festival was fantastic. It was a great time for team building with all the camping, and the long lazy afternoons. I was able to re-connect with the friends I wanted to, my relationship with the young people going to Toronto in 16days was strengthened, attitudes were transformed and God challenged us to find the respect we'd lost temporarily. It was a very personal experience for most of us and we were able to share it together and that is why God is good. The same way a soccer player sets up the perfect goal, God sets up the perfect situation for us to respond to Him, to confront Him and to let it all go for Him.

I will never be able to watch Harry Potter or eat honey, berries or cream without thinking of everybody at SM09. I will avoid taking down tents in large groups and I will never be able to hear an australian accent without thinking of paedophiles. Clean-up rota's are in my Top10 most hated things in the entire world ever and I will never get over not being able to eat Crofty's mums chicken bake on the first night.

I watched a documentary tonight centered around the Alpha course. 5 agnostic brits attended the course including a retreat, and reported back on what they thought, how they felt, whether or not their opinion of organized religion and Christianity in particular changed at all. We had a comedy writer, a student,a middle aged woman with a troubled past and this wierd guy who was a 'freegan' which, as far as i can tell, means that he only eats food that is free. So at night time he hokes through supermarket skips to pick out all the food that is still good enough to eat. But that could be a whole entire post in itself!

I have never gone through the alpha course but I know people who have and liked it. People whose opinion I trust. I don't know why I expected a C4 show to be anything different but it was edited in a way that stained the course and Christianity as a fundamental cult with whacked out rituals and utterly naive followers. 6 weeks of motivational speakers (who read pre-prepared speeches from a mass-prepared booklet) followed by small group discussion and food served by pretty christian girls. Always have to have a good spread at church events; its part of the package. The narrator described it as a seemingly formless course which in fact was rigidly organized to produce good results. Sounds sneaky and devious doesn't it?

I remained defensive until they got to the sprirtual retreat and things got a little wierd. I felt awkward for the agnostics when they were encouraged, as a part of the course, to speak in tongues. On several occassions. Speaking in tongues was likened to a baby speaking his first muddled up words to his parents. Not by the narrator but by the minister. It was almost as if there was a method or a formula to speaking in tongues when the point of the term 'tongues' is languages that were never learnt. Speaking in tongues is, in my limited understanding, a spiritual gift. And one that can only be called upon by the Holy Spirit. And if you haven't invited the Spirit into your heart, like these people attending the alpha course, then how can they expected to tongue speak on cue. Is this not ridiculous?

I was unaware that this was such a large component of the alpha course and I think after watching this particular insight, that I and most other people watching, will not be attending the alpha course anytime soon. At least not that one.

You know it is summer when you can drive down to County Wicklow for random Thursday. Nikki and I went to visit Dublin City Mission for the day, who bring their town kids summer camping to the derelict countryside of Wicklow. Everybody loves a roadtrip but this one will remain definitive for a long time!

You can't trip the road without petrol so we're waiting outside the petrol station for 20mins waiting for it to open @ 7am. I'm pretty cranky when I'm sleepy so when the gate clearly wasn't lifting after 7, I got out and gave my what for. But apparently here in NI it is common to close your petrol station for 4 days and I forgot that the Irish are telepathic and don't need mundane items like signs or notices to tell us such obvious things. An Egg McMuffin-to-go for breakfast and we're flying down the dual carriageway. Conversation is good, the coffee is good and traffic is good. We're driving in the outside lane, alongside a big blue tanker lorry and I'm explaining the concept of Transformers. His indicator comes on, so he obviously wants to move out after we pass him. No he wants to move out now. There he is moving out. His right side wing mirror is clearly broken. We break hard, fall back and wonder how a driver of something that looks like a space shuttle be so moronic. Had there been a car behind us, we would not have been able to break so hard and Nikki's car would have been road kill with us in it. What's a good road trip without a near-death experience though? We navigated ourselves really well and I tried real hard not to spill coffee all down myself the way there because I always do and I was wearing a white tshirt. 2 mins before we get there coffee spills. Rage.

On the trip home 15hours later; we were exhausted. Up since 6am, we left Wicklow near 12am and had 3 hours to keep ourselves awake. The news about Michael Jackson had just come out so that kept us going for a little bit. The roads seemed so long, there weren't many cars, no service stations and we couldn't speed because there were camera's everywhere. It felt like a snail's pace and our eyes were so heavy. But we get to the home stretch, the dual carriageway between Banbridge and Lisburn. And out of nowhere this sloth-like creature crawls out onto the road and THUD. We hit it. Full on annihalated it. Was it a dog? Was it a badger? A mole? It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings. An orks pet perhaps. We're staring at each other. Do we stop? Do we laugh? Do we cry? Nikki is a chronic worry wart so I don't know how she will react so I just stare. We burst out laughing harder than ever before. It was just too funny. That badger will live on in our lives forever, because he kept us awake that night so we could get home safe.

Thank you Barry. And we really hope you were a badger.

For you crazy kats that have submitted to the evil pulling power of facebooks farmtown, you will know that my farmer name is Cappie. And those at my 23rd birthday will remember my build-a-bear that we finally decided to name Faggins. Put them together and you get the name of the co-lead character of my new literary series/TV movie....Cappie Faggins. Joining Cappie will be the fantastic Colonel Munchface who exploits battery operated chickens on her farm. Currently there is a petition you can sign to save the battery chickens and you can find it at www.toodleloomuvafukaaaaahs.com. Also hoping to sign on to join these 2 dorks is K. Crapbag, but due to previous committments and a mysterious car incident; it may be legally difficult to take Crapbag under our wing.

Stay tuned to hear more about the adventures of Cappie and the Colonel.

My smelly friend Amy wrote a little about what she had learned over the past 3 months. Which got me thinking about what I might have been learning in the past few months.

1. Everything is subject to change at any moment. Even those things in your life that you think never could change will change.

2. Change is one of the hardest things to come to terms with. It's hard to let go of what you're used to and it's hard to embrace the unfamiliar.

3. While you are struggling, you can be sure that the people around you are struggling also. Even thought nobody talks about it, everybody knows its there.

4. People's priorities change when relationships and circumstances change. And sometimes that leaves you feeling left behind. But it's ok to feel like that, because when you lose something important to you, it is replaced by something better. God is good that way.

5. You have to take one day at a time. Making long term earthly plans is pointless. More often than not, your long term ideas won't go exactly to plan leaving you lost and anxious. Take each day as a clean canvas, and use it to glorify God through the little things. Do a small job for somebody. Run errands for those who can't. Do something creative. Read a book. Listen to a sermon. Get in touch with a friend who might need some company. Life is what YOU make it.

I should probably mention that these are not yet lessons learnt. They are lessons I'm in the process of learning. I am still stubborn, frustrated and I complain ALOT. But I am still confident and hopeful that, given a little more time and an awesome summer, that I will come to peace with everything and everyone here with me.

http://www.fuelevents.com

Fuel 09 is a great concept, and having these bands in Ireland has been awesome. We're a little behind the times here in NI as far as Christian music is concerned and unless you've spent time in North America or know somebody who has, you might not be familar with alot of the line up. But trust me, the line up the fuel team put together was second to none.

I got to meet Downhere yesterday and it was a privilege. Hearing their story, where the band name came from, talking to them about Canada, sharing the whole thing in Ballymena of all places. The guys are down to earth, approachable, and unlike other musicians that will remain nameless (*****/***) And you know what the greatest thing was? Mainstage sat night, their set, their music was all about God. They were the only act I caught throughout the day that didn't cover any sec songs. They shared there past experiences and the stories of their songs and it all made for a great reception and a great night despite some disappointments during the weekend.

And I have to give some props to the kids at church this morning who were jamming along on their guitars and drums and voices to the old school hymns. It was a highlight for me and made it worth getting out of bed for after a crazy week.

I had a hilarious conversation with some friends this evening. We sat in what was left of one of the most beautiful days this summer so far, and we talked about animals. Birds, lions and midgies to be precise. We marveled at a birds ability to conjure up a conversation with a friend sitting over on the neighbours chimney. We giggled at the mental image of a lion clinging on to an aeroplane wing. And we poked fun at the midgies who can never move from one spot and one particular midgie who put their short 24hr lifes energies into making as much noise as possible when he zoomed past us. Or she? We don't know. How do you tell the difference in midgies? At this point, we got cold and the boys walked me home and we reminisced about our holiday in France back in 2007, walking to and from each others tent in the evenings.

It's funny how little conversations like this one are remembered. One of the many books I write in the future will focus completely on these lighthearted and pointless conversations. Of which I have had many. Life doesn't always have to be serious and conversations don't always have to make sense. At some point, you got to let the worrying and the frustrations and all the things that constantly annoy you go, and talk about the midgies.

I don't watch Britain's got talent. You have X Factor for the budding popstars, and you have strictly come dancing for the budding fred & gingers; you have big bro for the weirdos with nothing better to do for an entire summer, and you have next top model for the beautiful people. So Britain's got talent is just an excuse for all the leftovers, right? WRONG! It pulled 15million viewers over the weekend so I checked it out; nothing ever happens on a Mondays anyway. And I found these wee gems!

Harry Potter. Dumbledore. Voldemort. I took a notion this week, while I was looking through the masses of part-time courses available to me for next year, to watch all the HP movies in eager anticipation of the half-blood prince this summer. Notions that are a direct repercussions of Apple trailers; yes, I am weak. I spent an unjustifiable amount of time watching said trailers last night and it only left me with a heavy head and feelings of dissatisfaction? Unsatisfaction?

You can say whatever you like about our Harry, but you cannot deny the unbelievable sense of imagination it must take to write these stories. And not just one story, 7 stories that get more and more exciting. I would give alot to have an imagination like that. I could completely escape my mondane schedule and live in a world of fiction. It's healthy to exercise you're imagination from time to time, and let your rational mind take a break. With a kit-kat. And Elvis Presley.

As a christian who see's no harm in the harry potter series, on the basis that it is complete fiction, it's interesting to me all the religious debates over the subject. I think it is silly, especially considering the endorsements on other magical stories including Narnia and Middle Earth. Set aside the darkness and the evil and you'll see recurring themes like good over evil, loyalty, love and resilience. We are taught to love above all else and here, Harry Potter is protected solely by the love of his mother who sacraficed her life to save him. Mmmmmmm.

In the same way the fictional Rita Skeeter uses her media influence to paint inaccurate and sometimes false pictures of Harry Potter and other 'goodies' in the books, our own media paints similarly inaccurate situations in an attempt to alter our perceptions and our enjoyment. Why let it happen?

Its 'cool' to have a cause. I recently recieved an email from ASOS or was reading some glossy mag or possibly both, but one or the other was giving out fashion advice for supporting your particular cause. I was confused because in my head, fashion doesn't go hand in hand with humanitarian support but this article was very nonchalent about the issue, like it was so natural to link the two, like there was barely any need to write an article about it except for idiots like myself.

Basically, the trick is to look super stylish but like you didn't put any effort into your style. It mean lots of mis matching, crazy hair colours, hippy-like elements and plenty of tshirts with bold, blunt and controversial messages. On facebook we join causes. Protests are social events. Overseas humanitarian work looks good on our resume's. Makes us look more well rounded. Appearing selfless has become utterly selfish.
There is a reason a cause has become a cause. And the reasons are getting lost in the hype and the style requirements and the lifestyles. Even google couldn't decide which cause to support without ruffling some feathers so they bunged 4 into 1!!

I just read an article talking about career women. It weighed up the pro's and con's of the cut-throat bitch career women vs the charming and subtly intelligent ladies of the business world. I'm guessing that the huge impact Michelle Obama instigated the entire debate.

I, for one, am glad that the more understated woman is getting some props. Lucky for me, my passion is for youth and I look forward to a life of jeans and bodywarmers and snotty teenagers with attitude problems, so I don't see an alpha-negative fauz-male career snobs who swear like truckers getting in my way. But, if my destiny changes in a similar fashion to that of Capt Kirk and Commander Spock, I would like to think that women can continue to be lady like, gentle and understated without being taken advantage of and still having an equal opportunity to move up that ladder everyone always talks about without turning to alcohol, narcotic drugs or over-priced therapy.

The underlying cause for my overtly feminine rant (which is far from over) this evening....last weekend I spent stranded in the middle of nowhere where teenagers drive tractors and have regular barn dances. You think I'm joking but I'm not...we attended one. Anyway, point is that alot of remarks, jokes, jests, whatevers were made regarding a women's role in life and it was often associated with cooking, cleaning, being seen and not heard blah blah blah. Being sexist is discriminating. It's just another form of prejudice. God didn't set the golden rule for neighbours of the same sex only so...FLPC boys...treat us the same way you expect us to treat you.

Rant over. For now.

"...Cause you had a bad day...da da da da....you sing a sad song....da da da da da round,,,," Oh Powter where are you now?

People talk too much and I am definitely included in that number. Why though? So many times I say silly things or make passing comments and a few seconds later...oh shit. Then I keep my mouth shut, pretend it never happened and hope life carries on with one less slip-up. I guess sometimes we don't think. Other times we need to let off steam. And other times we need to know that other people agree with us.

And then there is the flip side...when we don't talk enough. When we would rather lose sleep over something than share the load with somebody. Why do we do that? So many nights I go to bed worried or irritated or upset but the next morning I pretend it's not there and carry on with my meaningless tasks. It's probably because by the time morning comes, it no longer seems like such a big deal. Or I assume people here won't understand. Or I am too proud.

So here is an official apology to anyone who has had to suffer alongside me in the negative repercussions of my big mouth. And for the positive repercussions, you're welcome. And also an apology to those who have ever had to experience the effects of my grumpy, un-caffinated, selfish side.

I have definitely blogged about Extreme Makeover:Home Edition before, but dam that show is designed for people exactly like me. I try being cinical about it but I still end up leaking in a corner over it. Everytime I leave the sofa with puffy eyes and the sniffles. I don't like to think of myself as a conformist but sometimes, that's just what I am. I like home makeovers, backstreet boys and those little white shoe's everyone wears. I own them in 3 colors now.

And on the note of conformity, below is my super awesome beer garden appropriate summer playlist. Make a CD of these songs, play them out your car window with your aviators on and you may as well be in a car commercial. Unless you drive a car whose squeaky brakes are louder than your stereo. Then you should look into fixing that instead of making silly mix CDs.

Sondre Lerche-Let my love open the door

NKOTB-Dirty Dancing

All American Rejects-Move Along

Savage Garden-I want you

Sugarcult-Memory

Gym Class Heroes-Cupids Chokehold

Bare Naked Ladies-One Week

Sheryl Crow-Soak up the Sun

Third Eye Blind-Semi Charmed Life

The Beatles-Here comes the Sun

Beach Boys-Get Around/Wouldn't it be Nice

The Elms-Hey Hey

DJ Sammy-Why

Wynonna Judd-Burning Love

Boy Least likely to-Be gentle with me

Fresh Prince-Summertime

Phantom Planet-Always on my mind

Noisettes-Stop the Rhythm

There are of course many others, Wyclef Jean, Usher 8701 and NKOTB are always at close hand but these are awesome. I'm off to watch the race for a bit before me and the boys hit up some movie goodness with the sexy Seth Rogen.

There is a tv show here called Secret Millionaire. It was brought to my attention at a sermon given by a lady who went to a missionary college in Scotland, without money or any material possessions for 6years. Left her family and everything she owned at the age of 47. Needless to say her sermon was centred around materialism.

In Secret Millionaire, millionaires volunteer to live in some of the most notorious cities of the UK. On Sunday, Mr Rob Lloyd volunteered to live in Belfast, living on the Shankhill Road on £95 a week. His volunteer act was catalyized by the the recent sectarian shootings that once again rocked area's like the Shankill. FYI Shankill is a protestant working-class road and the word, in irish, actually translates as 'Old Church'.

Jimmy Warnock was a famous boxer from the area, beating the world champion twice in his time and as a result, alot of the youth in the area use the local boxing hall regularly. I don't know if it is a great idea to have the young people of Belfast putting energy into a violent sport like boxing but Rob Lloyd took the time to find out, spending a majority of the hour long show getting to know the kids there. As a result of the show, Mr Secret Millionaire will for sure be rethinking his own life and helping out the youth programs in the Shankill but I think it is a great thing he did and I think it is something that we, as believers in God, should be doing regularly on a personal level. Sure some of these things have selfish motives, but that doesn't mean you won't find God there.

Instead of aspiring to be successful, comfortable, wealthy, ambitious, or whatver word you use to describe the results of that inner drive we have towards material things, we should be aspiring to relate to our brothers and sisters in area's like the Shankill, Glasgow, Birmingham, London, Manchester. And the most effective and loving way to do this, is to join them and get to know them as equals. Even just watching the show on TV made me rethink boxing as a sport and made me want to spend more time with the kids there. But maybe that is just me being gullable.

In a world plagued by a tumbling economy, where peeps who want to work can't find it and peeps who should be working don't bother, where values are corrupted and reality is distorted, it makes me happy that there are a few things I can still depend on....

Chocolate remains an affordable pleasure. We may not be able to travel so easily, but we sure can look at pics of the places we want to go with a big dirty bar of chocolate.

Humans will always re-adapt to new situations so whatevers going on, we can rest assured that we'll find a way to go along with it. According to anthrapologists.

Here's a cheesy one for all you romantics...my parents and my Jesus will always love me. Recession has nothing on the currency of love. (Can't believe I just said that).

Summer will always come around the same time every year and we can find joy in putting together our summer playlists to blast out the car with the windows down.

Next time, I'll let you know all about the playlists. Feel free to make suggestions. If you're suggestions makes the cut and is chosen for the final playlist, you win a prize!!

God invites me everyday to his table where He is serving a big Christmas Potluck dinner with all the trimmings. I accept his invitation every morning but all I'm offering these days are McDonalds happy meals. And I steal the toy before I get there.

I'm sorry. And I'm also sorry that I downloaded Eoghan Quiggs album...it's completely shameless.

So much to blog about but a strong dislike for peeps who post super long blog entries. To hypocritisize or to satisfy my need to talk about my own life. Ha....I just wasted 3 sentences on crap!

A few days ago I ran into an old friend who is now some manager of the currency exchange in a huge UK supermarket chain. We used to play 'house' in my old caravan and stand on each others doorsteps for hours after school pissing our parents off and talking about nothing. Now he is 6ft3" and wearing suits and flashing his nifty iphone. I was a little jealous of him, he'd made a fairly decent living for himself, engaged to be married, nice car and seemed so adult compared to me in my jeans and tshirt. Strange thing is he was jealous of me having travelled and lived away from home for so long. We are very rarely happy with our own lives, everyone else seems to have it sorted while we're a mess.

Yesterday we all hit up Tollymore forest park for a nice walk-about, some competitive sport and chips with ice-cream. We will probs never play danish longball again but it was a great day. 2years ago we did the same thing, a little before I graduated and went to Vancouver. It's a little nuts everything that had happened. There were some new additions which is always fun, new relationships and everyones relationship had changed on some level but we were all there. Most things change but some shit stays the same forever!

Today my BFF got engaged....to be friggin married!! It's been on it's way but my money was on the summer. I'm so incredibly happy for her, we have spent so many nights looking at rings and dresses and photography and venues so to actually do it for real will be amazing fun but I can't help taking stock of my own situation. She is out getting engaged and I'm sitting in my pjs doing my families ironing!!!

Think I'll go have a shower, clean up and go talk dates and details with Nikki :o)

Ok...if you know me and are lucky enough to see me all the time this is going to be boring. For the rest of you this is how things look....

I have a job starting in latter August. It's a great job running at After School Program at a great school and it pays good. I couldn't have asked for anything better. So now I am looking for work between now and then....cafe, shop, clerical stuff whatever. I thought that the hard part was over after I got the job at Wallace but I was actually wrong. It is just as difficult and just as frustrating finding a boring job. You're too qualified, too young, too old, you don't know the right people or your experience is too unspecific.

As a little social experiment, I chose not to include a minor detail on a few applications. It's not illegal to not mention that you have a degree right? You don't need a degree in Chemistry to serve coffee or answer the phone.

And on the off-chance that anybody living in Lisburn and knows of work going in Lisburn is reading this wonderfully boring post, hook a sista up.

Last night on House there was a dude with 'locked-in syndrome'. Basically, he was alive but his brain couldn't signal to his body to do move. It's different to being paralysed or in a coma. All he could do was think and talk inside his own head, but to the outside world and everyone in it, he may as well have been in Madame Tussauds wax museum.

This got me thinking, don't we all have 'locked-in syndrome' sometimes? That's why therapy is so super popular in our screwed-up western bubble. Everybody has secrets, everybody lies and nobody's normal. If people don't talk to a therapist with signed confidentiality agreements, all the lies and secrets are locked in and can mess with your mind. You would start to feel like you're screaming and nobody can hear you, like everybody around you are idiots because they don't understand you and eventually you would give up. Exactly like the TV show.

Fascinating.

And a P.S. I don't have 'locked-in syndrome'. Yeah I'm not normal, I have secrets and sure I lie, but I have the J-man to talk to. And even when I try to keep it in, He knows everything anyways. There is no escape and when the whole wide world stops being too smart for their own good, and accepts God for his wonderfulness, therapists are going to be out of a job big style.

It's frustrating when you can see that you're friends are frustrated and you aren't in a position to help or fix things because you yourself are struggling. You look forward to a point in time when you have the means to achieve all you're made for but you don't look forward to next week. You want nothing more than to go back in time for one day when Sunday nights weren't an unwanted burden. Or go back in time to intern @ Camp Peace for one more day.

I've been reading about how we, as humans, are addicted to ourselves. Our 'self' is the most dangerous drug out there and satisfying the addiction is alot tougher than a pill or an injection or a snort. But in my situation, I choose to argue this point which fascinated me when I first read it. I need to focus on me, and being happy with me as I am and my personal relationships with God and stop focusing on all the external factors that I blame for not being happy. How much importance do you place on the acceptance of the people who walk in and out of your life? How much importance should be placed on worldy acceptance? Where is the fine line between self-acceptance and arrogance and how do I get there?

On a complete tangent and as a desperate attempt to change the direction in which this post is headed, Jenson Button won the Australian GP today. 3 weeks ago, he didn't even know if he had a drive for the season. Being on the starting grid in Australia seemed like a long shot never mind winning the bloody thing with your team mate right behind in second place. Last year in Canada, I didn't follow the season because it definitely wasn't such a big deal and I had no Formula 1 buddies to be hardcore with. But this isn't Canada anymore and I'm excited.

A beautiful sunny morning in Lisburn, a guilt-free lie in, big mug of coffee and fresh bagel with cream cheese with House on TV to stir up the brain cells. Today I will finish my book and write a short story with a happy ending Disney would be proud of.

Hold on. The sun just disappeared behind a cloud and the heavens opened, the room is quite dark and cold now. The torrential rain is messing with the satellite and I miss one of Hugh Laurie's classic lines. It all happened so quickly.

Hey the sun is back with his hat on. Carefree viewing resumes, coffee is a little luke-warm but who cares, it's a beautiful day just like Bono says. I have to go for a walk and read outside, I'll quickly put some shoes on.

Downstairs and ready to go and it is flipping raining again. Really hard. I can't take it anymore. Several sufferers of seasonal disorders have dropped dead in NI because their brains exploded from confusion.

All this madness happened in a matter of 30mins. What I'm trying to say is ROLL ON SUMMER. Noah, take back your torrential rain and Mr. Sun can set up house for a few months rent-free.

My word it is awesome to be Irish this weekend. We just nailed the rugby grand slam beating every other side and it was magic. The streets were dead from 5pm, with everyone safely on the sofa in anticipation of what was sure to be a nail biting 80mins of scrums and tackles, O'Gara and O'Driscoll and the boys bringing it home. Ireland vs Wales. Six Nations final.

Unfortunately I was chaperoning a bloody 24hr table tennis marathon so was only able to catch the last 15mins but holy crap, what a time to tune in. 12-14 to Ireland. A little close for comfort wouldn't you say? Wales are strong, passing like a game of hot potato and one dude just storms through like Hercules, hardly touched. A drop kick and the welsh score. 15-14 to Wales. Crap. Devastating but, not for long because one trademark kick later from O'Gara and it's all good once again. 15-17 to Ireland. 3mins left on the clock. Ireland are defending hard, so hard that a bloody penalty is rewarded to Wales and I swear the whole emerald isle is silent. It's a straight, long distance kick. The Welsh No.10 hasn't missed once the whole game. This could be the end and we're all crowded round a shitty reception TV in the church basement wondering how we are going to deal with it if we lose? He steps back. He runs up. He kicks. It's heading the right way.....

just not far enough boyo! Ye missed and we win the grand slam. Dublin is going to be explosive and we aint going to shut up about this one for a long time.

Why do we cry? No other mammals cry. I'm not talking about basal reflex tears scientifically necessary for survival, but emotional tears produced in responsed to sadness, stress or physical pain. Could there not have been another, less conspicuous way to respond to emotion. Drueling out your eye isn't attractive. Maybe a nice smelling odour could come out of your pores or your skin could glow or your hair could shine.

Every couple of weeks, Nikki and I get together and cry at Greys anatomy. And we enjoy it. It's sick. We go to country kitchen for a dirty fry-up, mug of coffee and glass of OJ then we curl up on the sofa, pull the blinds to block out sunlight and get in touch with our feelings. Then we complain about not exercising enough, make a pact to do some the following week and it never happens. I guess it is some kind of therapy.

Hello blog world. We've been going through a dry spell lately but hopefully the change in Irish weather is permanent and inspiration will come a-knocking any day now. Meanwhile I will continue to watch House, and settle into a new routine. A routine of an employed variety. That's right folks, Debs went and got herself a job. One with money and everything. You are reading the blog of the new supervisor of the new after-school program at Wallace's prepatory dept. A brand new group of kids to pass my invaluable wisdom onto. And soon we will be able to share funny kid stories again.

But, for those of you who believe in karma, every silver lining is balanced with darkness and this week that would be child protection training. If I miss it this time, they will take me outside the city walls and throw rocks at me. But if I go, I risk losing one too many brain cells and living out the remainder of my days as a vegetable. Child protection is necessary, I get it, but people setting out the rules here are 2 spanners short of a full toolbox if you know what I mean.

1. Only use one eye to look at a child. Two will suggest you actually give a crap.

2. If a child approaches for an embrace of some description, curl up into the foetal position to ensure minimal contact and signal to other leaders that a line is about to be crossed.

3. NEVER be honest with the child. If they ever find out you're not perfect, they may resort to various forms of criminal activity and a lifetime of therapy and that is your fault.

4. There must be 7.5 leaders to every 2 children present.

Hey, I should be the church child protection officer.

"On a bad day I have mood swings, but on a good day, I have the whole mood playground"~Charles Rosenbaum

I walked into the foyer of church today, early for a change, and saw everybody wearing little purple ribbons. Within seconds of noticing, there was a basket in my face full of the same little purple ribbons and a letter from the leaders of the prebyterian church Ireland. It is a little purple ribbon that represents peace, a little sign that we aren't prepared for things to go back to the way that they used to be. Teamed with a sermon that preached community and planting little seeds of peace everywhere we go and it felt a good. Community is a comfort word for me. But I was also comforted by everybodies reaction to the real IRA attacks last week. I'm comforted that people are responding, openly admitting and showing that they are scared and that politicians are speaking out against it.

I'm a little scared. I'm scared that they found over 60 bullet shells on the scene. I'm scared that there were police cars at every junction on my way home last night. And I'll wear my little purple ribbon until I'm not so scared.

My grannie is old, and gets confused alot. Sometimes it's funny, like when she puts salt on her dinner with a TV remote, but at other times it's really uncomfortable because you remember the times she could chase you round the garden after she caught you playing cops and robbers in her greenhouse. Sometimes she is pleasantly confused and can laugh at herself and at others she is frustrated and lonely, probably feels like nobody can understand her. We all know what that feels like on some level.

We don't appreciate the mind God has blessed with us. It is alot more technically advanced than an iphone but it's the iphone everyone is talking about. Our intelligence, our memories, our ability to know everyone and everything by name and our ability to ask questions in order to learn and evolve as people is a miracle. It's something we may not always have so make the most of it when you do. I just pray that whatever happens my mind, that the faith instilled in my heart will always remain in tact.

I had planned to sit down and write a totally awesome post today, now that I am feeling healthy again and grabbing life by the balls. But I bought a bag of grapes earlier because I had mad cravings. I just opened and had one to inspire my brainly juices.

They taste gross.

Symptoms: Fever, sore throat, severe fatigue, swollen glands

Diagnosis A: Tonsilitis

Diagnosis B: Glandular Fever aka mono/kissing disease. (Peeps keep telling me I have a problem with all the kissing and the boys but I'm not ready to admit just yet)

Treatment A: Penicillin, the mother of all antibiotics. Props to Flemings.

Treatment B: NONE, its a friggin virus.

As I lie on the sofa in rage, contemplating 4-6 weeks of discomfort and social arrest, I have to wonder whats round the next bend on life's path? Probably a big double decker bus with no brakes.

4 sofa-happy days later, I have re-discovered 2 greatnesses of the past. First is Mr Robbie Williams and sing when you're winning. Arrogant moron but amazing record. Second is Jesse Spencer aka Billy Kennedy. I crushed out on this dude so bad back in the day when Neighbours was the australian soap of choice so imagine the nostalgia when I started watching House this week as a distraction to the rage outbursts and find him there. Dr Rob Chase. Hot accent, great hair, pretty face and a white lab coat.

Cue dreamy music and Scrubs-like day dream.....

Recently alot of facebookers have been sharing 25facts about themselves with me. They tag me in their note, implying that I am mentioned or somehow a part of the note but in fact, have nothing to do with the bloody thing. Sorry friends, but you're lucky if I read the first 3 facts so hope they were the best ones.

I don't like 'those types of things'. Forwarded emails, chain letters, facebook 25thingys... But today I came across this one which was alot of fun.

1. Go to Wikipedia and click on a random article. The title of the article is now the name of your imaginary but entirely possible in the future band.

2. Go to quotations, and the last few words/phrase of the last quote on the page is now the name of your first record.

3. Finally, go to flickr and explore the last 7 days in interesting photos. The third image that comes up is your album cover!

I can't upload the photo which is a crazy close-up of the zipper on a pair of jeans (undone might I add!) but it was pretty cool. And my band is B Class Blimp and our first record will be "Perhaps we were created for another world". So awesome, I have decided to hold auditions for the band this weekend.

Tomorrow has the potential to be one of those Mon mornings where you can be proud to be a brit. There is no way we can't clean up @ the Oscars. Slumdog Millionaire is the absolute best of british indie film and the soundtrack is flawless. The movie tells the story of an underdog, the movie itself is an underdog and the world loves underdogs. British director, British film and british actor...red, white and blue is looking hot right now. No political undertones intended.

Whilst on this crazy train with Mr. Union Jack, I should reminise with you all about my first crush. At 4years old, Christopher Dean of Olympic superstars Torvill & Dean was in line to be my husband. I watched figure skating instead of cartoons, I made Daddy sign me up for skating lessons first thing every sat morning and he had to tolerate my tantrums when I couldn't master the steps. Eventually I let the dream go but I watched their story tonight on TV to celebrate 25yrs since Bolero scored 12 perfect 6.0's and it got me all fired up to fulfil my dream of becoming an ice dancing super hero once again. Sequins and headbangers and teapot cradles, they are my calling.

So this afternoon, I stopped in at Flash, our Friday afternoon drop-in at church. And we're just chillin' in the Downtown Centre when Edward, an eccentric kid to say the least, who lives for theatre starts to tell us about some of the warm up exercises artsy people might use before a production. The other kids reckoned it would be better if he got up and demonstrated.

So Edward takes centre stage and raises his arms in a rocket ship kinda shape.

"ALL BANANA'S UNITE.....peel banana, peel peel banana...mash banana, mash mash banana...shake banana, shake shake banana...".

It's a camp song so y'all might not understand the comedy. But you don't sing camp songs in Northern Ireland. You're likely to get shot or get your car keyed or at the very least, laughed at extensively for the rest of your like. Of course I recognised the song but the others certainly did not, and mix the words up with the actions, sex it up a little and watch Edward perform......it brought people to tears.

It was funny, but what will be even funnier is when I get to watch all of them sing the banana song with actions plus many other songs at summer camp in Toronto this July. (Mental Note: Bring Camcorder)

I just read Kristin's blog. In response, I have decided to use my free time to start a campaign to change the little male female pictures on public toilet doors and signs.

First off people don't look like this. A majority of humans tend to have hair, especially women. We also have feet as supposed to nicely rounded stumps.

Secondly, these pictures are misleading. It implies that you use the washroom merely just to stand up straight and practice your posture with other members of the same sex.

If the government wants to waste their time and make headline news on issues that very few people are bothered about considering the way of life they have grown accustomed to is no longer secure, then I will waste their time with this campaign.

Ha...it's a good thing I have 2 job interviews coming up and might not have much freetime left.

If I had to take part in a reality TV show, and lets be honest, I have the time, it would be Shipwrecked. For those of you who are unfortunate enough not to reside in the United Kingdom, Shipwrecked is the one where you are dumped on an island pretty close to Fiji for 3months. Building shelters, camping every night, beautiful turquoise water and blue skies, white sand, new people and miles away from politics and other equally annoying aspects of the western world.

Then there's the downside. All the other islanders that join you on you're peaceful sanctuary over the 3months. Lets take a looksie

1. The friend for life. (Lets start on a positive note.)
2. The over-emotional.
3. The personality clash.
4. The one that leaves early. (There's always one)
5. The guy that thinks he's amazing.
6. The guy that IS amazing. (Added bonus that he never wears a shirt)
7. The overtly camp guy.
8. The posh and extremly privileged english chick.
9. The girl that talks too much with the annoying voice.
10. The argumentative, moody, close minded trouble makers for want of other words.
11. The funny guy! (He's my favourite)

But hey, I think I know one of all of these peeps here in Lisburn already!! So roll on Fiji...

Last year was the first time I found myself challenged on the issue of homosexuality in the church. And strangely it fascinated me, despite the fact that homosexuality has never directly effected me or those close to me. We preach grace and love. Blessed are the poor and the troubled and the outcasts. But not the homosexuals. Inconsistent right?

So I was very refreshed to go to a Presbyterian church last night and hear a discussion, not a sermon, regarding homosexuality. It was executed so well. The points were clear and concise and it would be difficult to argue.

Two things are important. There is a difference between orientation and practice. And we need to be so careful not to put sexual sin on a pedestal above all other sins. Sure it is controversial and in our little human brains it is seemingly worse than lying or gossiping or addiction but it's not. The only unforgivable sin is rejection of the holy spirit.

Love the sinner but hate the sin. I don't care what the sin is. I will love a gay man as much as I love a friend who told a lie. I won't agree with the practice of homosexuality the same way I won't agree with adultery or murder or deceit. And I will never judge because I am a sinner also.

Hi friends. In a few hours, I will be on my way to Donegal. It's in the south of Ireland but is the most northern part of the island. It consists of beaches, cliffs, pubs and holiday homes. Why are we going there? Retreat time. FLPC is in transition so in theory it seems like a good idea to go away to the middle of nowhere and renew our spirits, enjoy strong fellowship and support each other. Ha. At least we'll be in the sticks so we can scream as loud as we like and not irritate too many people, just the sheep. But seriously, I secretly hope it's a great weekend.

Also, some of you might find it humorous that I resorted to accidental terrorism the other day in Ikea of all places. Right next door to the airport. I thought I was pulling through my recent disappointments pretty well until I brought a knife and pseudo threatned the sales assistant. I had left the knife I used to open the boxes in the boxes and when I returned them there it was. Sharp and shiney. As I lifted it, I was pointing it at the dude, in his striking blue and yellow uniform. "Please don't kill me, I'm too young to die" is what he said. Meanwhile Amy, who gets major props for this entry, is laughing somewhere in the background, no help at all!

Gots to go bake/buy some protestant traybakes...

Should Bill Gates be in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize?

In my opinion, hell no. He gets major props for being super intelligent and hard-working but he does not get a peace prize nomination for pumping a pile of money into third world relief efforts. A nobel peace prize isn't a personal goal to be accomplished. Peeps who win Peace prizes don't care about Peace prizes.

I was accused of needing to 'grow up' for having this opinion. It's a good thing God wants us to have a child-like mind or I'd be in some serious difficulties (apparently!). Are you picking up on the passive aggressiveness yet?

Peeps like Mother Teresa and Ghandi and Dr King recieved Nobel Peace prizes because they dedicated their lives to peace and reconciliation, not their cheque books. They took risks, waded outside the pool of comfort. Peace can't be achieved with money, only by attitude (and not the attitude to give money.) Can you pay people to stop judging, discriminating and holding grudges? Will money stop violence? Sure, maybe money can make the peacemaking process a little easier and quicker in terms of ridding countries of disease but after that there are a alot more problems in store for these peeps now that money is in the equation. Are you a peace maker if you pay for a little kid to be treated for malaria but then send them back home to the same conditions that caused the illness in the first place?

So when Mr. Gates pays to treat peeps of malaria and then goes home with them and lives in their communities instead of jumping in his private jet back home, let me know and I'll consider a nomination.

U2 released their album on digital download today. In Canada. 3weeks before Ireland. My mind does not comprehend. Homeboys gotta remember where they came from, that's all I'm saying. The only legit excuse is that Bono, a close personal friend, didn't get the memo that I wasn't going to make it to Canada this time so wasn't aware that he should re-arrange the release dates. I'm sure that's what went wrong.

In the first 18 days of 2009, alot of things have changed for alot of people I know. Peeps have moved to new homes all over the world and are settling in, trying to find their bearings, other peeps have started new jobs and are trying to figure out where they fit in, sadly there's been break ups and for me, disappointment. Whilst others are trying to adjust to new situations, I'm trying to adjust to mine not being new.

Part of me is content to stay here because my friends make it really easy to focus on everything but what you should be focusing on. I can drive here which increases the bearability factor. Several times this week I got in the car and kept on driving to stop my head from exploding. I have little projects here to sink my teeth into like re-decorating my room and the basement in church. And I posted away 4 application forms this morning for various courses, jobs and internships and if any of those were to materialise, it could be quite exciting.

But if I look at one Camp Peace photo, I still feel sad.

According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, there are 5 stages of grief.

1.Denial.
2. Anger.
3. Bargaining.
4. Depression
5. Acceptance.

John Bowlby thought this model was a little too complex and referred to the following stages.

1. Shock/Numbness.
2. Yearning/Searching.
3. Disorganization/Despair
4. Reorganization.

Debs Lowry took both of these models into account, and commends both Lizzy and John on their efforts. Indeed, it would seem that one goes through every single stage at some point in every day. But you forgot some important stages

1. Complete and utter disappointment verging on devastation.
2. Exhaustion.
3. Embarrassment.
4. Damage control. Applying for every job/course available.
5. Distracting yourself by hanging out with friends constantly and re-decorating your bedroom.

6. Cluelessness. This is where I'm at right now.
(But some might say thats where I've always been!)

I'm 23 today. I was supposed to be on a plane to Canada, celebrating with sushi, tim hortons and good friends on the other side but instead I am drinking shitty coffee on Belfast's excuse for the London eye. How does one deal with such disappointment? Yesterday I was devastated. My eyes were puffy and even a crazy game of Taboo couldn't distract me. Today I feel better and older and my eyes are still puffy from my session with Mr Jack D. JOKE. Tomorrow I'll start the re-evaluation process with an expensive therapist, dietition and personal trainer. Not true.

This is what my calender says today...

"In thee do I put my trust" Psalms 16:1. That way I can't fail.

Mmm.

To cut a messy story clean, my application for a work permit was refused because I haven't been home in the UK for 6months. Hence my not so indirect outburst of pure anger towards the Canadian Government. It could be worse....they could have denied me access to the country completely or they could have denied my work permit because I had gonnorheoa. There's the silver lining.

And the really annoying thing about the entire situation...I can't even talk to somebody at the High Commission to ask the questions I need answering. It's all automated services and press 1 to hear info about blah and press 2 to hear info about blah. It's like they know they are highly inconveniencing/destroying people's futures for BS reasons so make themselves untouchable. I would have better luck contacting the IRA or Italian Mafia than a visa officer.

What am I going to do now? Basically I'll decide tomorrow. Despite the impression I may be giving off, I am trying to take some time to rest, read, pray and not be angry. At the end of the seemingly longest day ever, it is all out of my power. The only decision I have to make is whether or not to get on the plane Wed.

Canada Customs and Immigration are dicks. Peace out.