This Bus Strike…

So this bus strike … I want to support them. I do! It’s their right! … At least they’re talking, but  (of course there’s a “but”) I need to get to work …

One of the reasons I love living in Cork is as one very drunk stag party participant said one Summer morning a few years back is that “Cork is small enough to get around in, but big enough to be in Ireland!” We don’t need subways, and tramways, and trains, and roller coasters to get around. And although I’d be dubious about getting to work via roller coaster, if I had too I would. All we really need are the busses.

So this bus strike… It’s their right… At least they’re talking, but I need to get to work…

I called in all my favours from friends that have cars or roller coasters, or at least access to one or the other  to help me out and give me a lift, but not only give me a lift to work but help out my co workers and bring them back into town after I relieve them from their shift. I’m asking my friends with cars and roller coasters to be shuttle busses. Because I would have to work 5 hours of my 8 hour shift just to pay the cost of a cab to work and back.  I owe my friends my soul, of which they will have to fight for, or dismantle and portion out.

So this bus strike… It’s their right. At least they’re talking, but I need to get to work… And I have no soul of my own …

The process is relentless. Constantly posting on Facebook, ” Desperate! Need a lift to Ballincollig Thur 3pm & Lift back for Co Worker! Please Help! Anyone?” Keeping it short enough so that it stays in big bold letters, and making sure I do it on my cell phone so that I have the option of turning it into some kind of meme that everyone will look at, because my laptop is 7yrs old and bugs me constantly to update this, that and the current rate of  beach sand accumulation on the floor mats  in the abandon Datsun in Alberta Canada. I post it on Monday, then again Tuesday with a different background colouring so that it looks like a different thought provoking meme. Please someone look at it! I post on Twitter, but the 15 followers I have live in the lost city of Atlantis, … or Colorado… I think … And the roller coaster won’t get me to work on time. … Still would be really cool though… Come Wednesday still no takers, and I post again, and I go to that very uncomfortable and awkward place, breaking through the safe guards to the family politics and ask my boyfriends family, because my boyfriend, like me, doesn’t have a car. … I manage to get a lift, this time, and will start the process all over again tomorrow…

So this bus strike… It’s their right…  At least they’re talking, but I need to get to work… I have no soul of my own & I have sold out to social media …

Feeling guilty and self indulgent, *I* need to get to work, nobody else, I do. But there are kids that can’t go to their after school activities because they depend on the bus. They’re needing to walk home while it’s still light out.  Sure many of the parents that have cars are do what they can to help out, filling up their cars with wayward students, but still there’s about a 1/3 of the students missing, with little hope in sight because the plans for an infra city roller coaster for some reason haven’t been developed yet.

The small businesses in town are suffering. They can afford a roller coaster to bring customers into their shops. And since they’re not a chain, they can’t make up the loss else where.

Even more disconcerting, more disheartening, are the pensioners (senior citizens, for all those back in the States) and people who have medical needs. They absolutely cannot go on the roller coasters! They have to walk  or pay crazy amounts of cash for a cab to get to the hospital to receive ridiculously overpriced, but badly needed medical care. … So they’re walking from the Kent train station to CUH to get their chemo treatments and back. I’ll let you Google how far that is.

So this bus strike… It’s their right…  At least they’re talking, but I need to get to work… I have no soul of my own, I have sold out to social media & am guilty for being heartless…

They’re at least talking… They’ve announce just now that they will come to a decision by tomorrow at lunch. If the strikers get what they want, I wonder if they knew that they held our personal lives, and livelihoods for ransom. We didn’t get a choice in the matter. The strikers took us hostage and held us for ransom with the thought that CIE cared. CIE cares about the bottom line – money. And there are plenty of other ways to disrupt their bottom line than to force us all on the roller coaster. I hope, or should I say “they better” appreciate the turmoil they put us all through, because our suffering saved their arses!

So this bus strike… It’s their right…  At least they’re talking, but I need to get to work… I have no soul of my own, I have sold out to social media & am guilty for being heartless… I was held for ransom and survived. I’m looking forward to a pleasant smile and a fond Thank You from the bus driver on my next several bus rides…

 

Coming Back…

Goodness does everything look different. …  It’ll take a bit of time to get back in the swing of it. … I’ll terrible, simply awful at the start, but hopefully get better with practice… or get comfortable in my mediocrity … Well, OK… I’ll get started…

Throne For A Thorn

I took out the thorn in my side today. It sat in that chair festering. I had no place else to put it. I had no room left in my modest yet comfortable home. So there it sat reminding me of the rope burns from being left hanging, the road rash from being thrown under the bus. It reminded me of my disappointment in all those who said they wouldn’t take sides but so totally did in their silence. It sat there reminding me of the empty promises of “We’ll still be friends” … And not just from the one …

It was to be removed before May of last year. But it wasn’t. It was a lot bigger back then. It spread all over the house and lurked in the dusty corners, rotting. I pecked away at it. Only a little at first, my skin was still tender. As my skin grew thicker, I dug deeper, pulling more and more of it out until I was left with this thorn stuck so deep that not even my bitterness or anger could get rid of it. It would have cost money that I didn’t have to extract it, so it sat right there on that chair…

But today was or is a beautiful day. And today I’m living in the most Amazing place in an Incredible time with the most Remarkable people I have ever known! … So I went to the post office today and pulled out the thorn in my side…chair.jpg

This Is Neat!

http://stancarey.wordpress.com/2014/12/22/nope-intensifies-diversifies-grammatically/

Copy and pasted the link ‘coz I don’t know how to re-blog properly, or that it didn’t give me a runway with flashing lights so that I can land the re-blog jet.

Darlagh Continuously Sings

Check this blog out! They’re breaking the WordPress Cookie Cutter and having a write off!

Inglorious Jargon

Perla Zorn and Bruscar are writing each other off!

They’re taking turns writing bits to a story. They don’t know what the other is going to write or where they are going to take the story until their bit goes live on WordPress! But they ran into a problem, in that the reader/follower has to scroll down to the bottom and do a Texas 2 Step of 2 steps upward one step down, to read the story in order. Unless, of course, you’ve been following from the beginning.

To work around the cookie cutter that is WordPress, Perla Zorn and Bruscar figured that they would also post their “write offs” here as the one continuous story that it was intended to be.  So, if you are new to this story,  you can read it from start to … now without leap frogging through the posts. They will still post as…

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F is for Fish Sauce, Flavour, Phan Thiết and Phú Quốc

I am so hungry … and so home sick …

Chris Galvin

nuoc cham and fresh herbs

The Vietnamese alphabet has no letter F. But it does have the letter PH, as in phở, and also Phan Thiết  and Phú Quốc, two places famous for fish sauce. The former is a southeastern coastal city. The latter is both Việt Nam’s biggest island and a district that includes this island and twenty-two smaller ones, tucked under the curve of Cambodia’s coast, in the Gulf of Thailand.

In his book Bút Khảo Về Ăn (Notes on Eating), Dr. Lê Văn Lân relates an old folk tale that he remembers his mother telling him. Here’s my rough translation:

A long time ago, a northern village held a feast-tasting challenge to open the spring celebrations. The banquet table groaned under a spread of the rarest foods of the mountains and seas. Whoever could correctly name the tastiest dish would win. According to tradition, the competitors entered one by one. A single drum…

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Serendipitious Noises # ^.^

Here’s a conversation I over heard between a Mom and her 6yr old Son on the bus from Fermoy …

“…What was your favourite song?”
“I like ahh, I like da Little Drummer Boy. I like, I like da Little Drummer Boy because he played his drums for Jesus because he was poor and didn’t have any money to buy him any presents por Christmas. … I play the violin!”
“You do and you are very good at it!”
“I can play my violin por everweone on Christmas!”
“You can. I’d say they would enjoy that very much! Then you can keep all your Christmas money!”
“I can!? … I can poo it ‘n da ***buckets!?”
“(hehe) Yeah! You can put your money in the buckets!”
“I can play my violin, and poo my money ‘n da buckets and everweone will have presents!

***Here in Ireland, the various charities will collect money in buckets.