Alison Ni Dhorchaidhe

Month

February 2011

21 posts

Seo mise - The Girl Who Reads (and Who Writes, for that matter...)

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

— Rosemary Urquico (via kblitz)

From Stumbleupon.com

Feb 28, 20112 notes
Tha mi ag ionnsachadh an òrain seo an-dràsta - my current fave!

Tha Mo Ghaol Air Àird A’ Chuain

Julie Fowlis

 

Feasgar ciùin an tùs a’ Chèitein

Nuair bha ‘n ialtag anns na speuran

Chualaim rìbhinn òg ‘s i deurach

‘Seinn fo sgàil nan geugan uain’

Bha a’ ghrian ‘sa chuan gu sìoladh

’S reult cha d’ èirich anns an iarmailt

Nuair a sheinn an òigh gu cianail

“Tha mo ghaol air àird a’ chuain”

 

Thòisich dealt na h-oidhch’ ri tùirling

’S lùb am braon gu caoin na flùrain

Shèid a’ ghaoth ‘na h-oiteig chùbhraidh

Beatha ‘s ùrachd do gach cluan

Ghleus an nighneag fonn a h-òrain

Sèimh is ciùin mar dhriùchd an Òg-mhìos

’S bha an t-sèisd seo ‘g èirigh ‘n còmhnaidh

“Tha mo ghaol air àird a’ chuain”

 

Chiar an latha is dheàrrs’ na reultan

Sheòl an rè measg neul nan speuran

Shuidh an òigh, bha ‘bròn ‘ga lèireadh

’S cha robh dèigh air tàmh no suain

Theann mi faisg air reult nan òg-bhean

Sheinn mu ‘gaol air chuan ‘bha seòladh

O bu bhinn a caoidhrean brònach

“Tha mo ghaol air àird a’ chuain”

 

Rinn an ceòl le deòin mo thàladh

Dlùth do rìbinn donn nam blàth-shul

’S i ag ùrnaigh ris an Àrd-Rìgh

“Dìon mo ghràdh ‘th’ air àird a’ chuain”

Bha a cridh’ le gaol gu sgàineadh

Nuair a ghlac mi fhèin air làimh i

“Siab do dheòir, do ghaol tha sàbhailt

Thill mi slàn bhàrr àird a’ chuain”

 

Beurla

 

On a quiet evening at the beginning of May

When the bat was in the skies

I heard a tearful young maiden

Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches

The sun was setting in the sea

And no stars yet graced the sky

When the young girl sang sorrowfully

“My love is on the high seas”    

The night’s dew began to fall

Each bloom yielding softly to the droplets

The wind blew in a fragrant breeze

Bringing life and renewal to each field

The girl tunefully sang her song

Quiet and peaceful like the June dew

And this chorus constantly repeated

“My love is on the high seas”    

Day darkened and the stars shone

Setting their course amongst the clouds

The maiden sat, burdened by her sadness

Her singing could not have been more soothing

 I moved closer to the young woman

Singing of her love sailing on the sea

Oh sweet was her sad lament  

“My love is on the high seas”    

The music enticed me

Nearer to the brown-haired maiden of the warm eyes

And she prayed to the King of Heaven

“Protect my love on the high seas”

Her heart was breaking with love

When I took her by the hand

 ”Wipe your eyes, your love is safe

I have returned to you from the high seas”

Feb 28, 20113 notes
#Julie Fowlis #amhránaíocht #songs #Gàidhlig #Gaelic
Never mind the new government - Irish people should whack on some of U2's old stuff on this sunny day to rekindle the feeling of PRIDE and COURAGE in Ireland!!

Because ‘We still haven’t found what we’re looking for’!

Feb 28, 20111 note
#U2 #music #Ireland
Feb 26, 20111,063 notes
An t-amhrán/dán is rómánsúla ar an domhan! (Dar liomsa)
An Clár Bog Déil

Do phósfainn thú gan bó gan punt gan áireamh spré
a chuid den tsaol le toil do mhuintire dá mb’áil leat é
is é mo ghalar dúch gan mé agus tú, a ghrá mo chléibh,
i gCaiseal Mumhan is gan de leaba fúinn ach an clár bog déil.

Siúil, a chogar, is tar i m’ fhochair go dtéam ón ghleann
is gheobhaidh tú foscadh ar leaba fhlocais agus aer cois abhann,
beidh na srutha ag déanamh torainn faoi ghéaga crann
beidh an londubh inár bhfochair is an chéirseach dhonn.

Searc mo chléibh do thugas féin duit agus grá trí rún
dá dtagadh sé de chor an tsaoil go mbeinn féin is tú
ceangal cléire bheith eadrainn araon leis an bhfáinne dlúth;
is dá bhfeicfinn féin mo ghrá ag aon fhear gheobhainn bás de chumha.

Feb 25, 20112 notes
#amhránaíocht #amhrán #filíocht #Gaeilge #grá
'Breakfast Crows'

Crows lift dog food

chisel it with beaks:

hammer hammer hammer

munch munch munch

caw caw caw

swift glossy flight

swoop

clink of beak on ceramic

crunchy food in clenched foot claws

hammer hammer hammer

munch munch -

squabble!

clash of wings and scrapes

swagger -

munch.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe, 2011

Feb 24, 20113 notes
#poetry #birds #crows
“A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds”
—Archibald MacLeish, ‘Ars Poetica’
Feb 23, 20111 note
#poetry #birds #Archibauld MacLeish
Birds in Hugh MacDiarmid's 'On a Raised Beach' (Taing Johan!)

‘On a Raised Beach’ (excerpt) by Hugh MacDiarmid

Deep conviction or preference can seldom   

Find direct terms in which to express itself.   

Today on this shingle shelf

I understand this pensive reluctance so well,   

This not discommendable obstinacy,

These contrivances of an inexpressive critical feeling,   

These stones with their resolve that Creation shall not be   

Injured by iconoclasts and quacks. Nothing has stirred

Since I lay down this morning an eternity ago

But one bird. The widest open door is the least liable to intrusion,   

Ubiquitous as the sunlight, unfrequented as the sun.   

The inward gates of a bird are always open.   

It does not know how to shut them.

That is the secret of its song,

But whether any man’s are ajar is doubtful.

I look at these stones and know little about them,   

But I know their gates are open too,

Always open, far longer open, than any bird’s can be,

That every one of them has had its gates wide open far longer   

Than all birds put together, let alone humanity,   

Though through them no man can see,

No man nor anything more recently born than themselves   

And that is everything else on the Earth.

I too lying here have dismissed all else.

Bread from stones is my sole and desperate dearth,   

From stones, which are to the Earth as to the sunlight   

Is the naked sun which is for no man’s sight.   

I would scorn to cry to any easier audience

Or, having cried, to lack patience to await the response.

I am no more indifferent or ill-disposed to life than death is;   

I would fain accept it all completely as the soil does;   

Already I feel all that can perish perishing in me   

As so much has perished and all will yet perish in these stones.   

I must begin with these stones as the world began.

 

Shall I come to a bird quicker than the world’s course ran?   

      To a bird, and to myself, a man?

      And what if I do, and further?

I shall only have gone a little way to go back again   

And be like a fleeting deceit of development,

Iconoclasts, quacks. So these stones have dismissed   

All but all of evolution, unmoved by it,

(Is there anything to come they will not likewise dismiss?)   

As the essential life of mankind in the mass

Is the same as their earliest ancestors yet.

Hugh MacDiarmid, excerpt from “On a Raised Beach” from Selected Poetry. Copyright © 1992 by Alan Riach and Michael Grieve.

From PoetryFoundation.org

Feb 23, 20114 notes
#poetry #Hugh MacDiarmid #Scottish poetry #birds
I really wish that I could just vote for Peter the Peacock...
Feb 23, 2011
#Election 2011 #Peter the Peacock #Dublin Zoo
You may have noticed the prominence of birds in my posts...

You all know I’m cuckoo for birds (ha ha), but I think that using the representation of my feathered friends on my blog for the past few weeks is an expression of my need for freedom. This is incredibly cliché, but it’s true. Birds are a law unto their own, they can fly away when they like. They’re untouchable. (Cats catch them now and again, but they’re usually on their way out when that happens.)

I hope to get back into writing and learning. I miss engaging with texts, whether they’re my own or someone else’s. My spelling has taken a knock, I’ve noticed, in both Irish and English. (Surprisingly, it seems to be okay for the most part when it comes to Scottish Gaelic! But I still always second guess myself and reference!)

I’ll be offering some insights here over the next week, particularly on my experience as an Irish teacher in a secondary school, on the election and on the Irish language issue. There are serious problems in this country, and I’ve become so infuriated that I find it difficult to express what I think in any language. Practice practice practice. Cleachtadh cleachtadh cleachtadh.

Feb 23, 20114 notes
#blogging #writing #birds #Election 2011 #Gaeilge #Irish language #teaching
Feb 23, 20115 notes
#Election 2011 #Dublin Zoo #Peter the Peacock #birds
Feb 22, 2011
#swans #birds #Galway
Feb 15, 20119 notes
#photography #swans #birds #Galway #Claddagh
Feb 15, 20114 notes
#photography #swans #birds #Galway #Claddagh
Feb 15, 20111 note
#photography #swans #birds #Galway #Claddagh
Feb 15, 20112 notes
#photography #swans #Galway #Claddagh #birds
Feb 15, 2011
#photography #swans #Claddagh #Galway #birds
What a beautiful day! Even the birdies were out in their forces - went through Baile Trá/Baltray on the way home and saw loads of Swans, Ducks, Oystercatchers, Red Shank, a couple of Curlews and a Little Egret! :) AND a wee Wagtail sitting on a wall, enjoying the happy Springtime sunlight. I wish I was a bird. (No girl jokes please!)
Feb 10, 20112 notes
'Brighid' - clár faisnéise TG4 ar an mbandia Brighid → beo.tg4.ie

Tá seo díreach class - ba mhithid dúinn an t-eolas seo a chur ar fáil do dhaoine. Seo mo chreideamh fhéin, agus measaim go bhfuil an-chiall ag baint leis. Is féidir linn an creideamh págánach a fháil ar ais dúinn fhéin chun í a chur in oiriúint dár linne, óir go bhfuil sé nádúrtha agus ag baint leis an fíor-shaol agus an mór-domhan. Is creideamh spioradálta agus domhanda araon é. Chaill muid ár nasc leis an nádúr mórthimpeall orainn mar gheall ar chreidimh a bhaineann go hiomlán leis ‘an saol i ndiaidh an t-saoil seo’. Measaim gurb shin an fáth go bhfuil na fadhbanna is atá againne an lá atá inniu ann.

Feb 6, 20114 notes
#Brighid #págántacht #Gaeilge #TG4
Feb 4, 20113 notes
#Ciarán Ó Con Cheanainn #amhránaíocht #Gaeilge
Next page →
2011 2012
  • January 5
  • February
  • March 3
  • April 4
  • May 2
  • June 1
  • July
  • August
  • September 1
  • October
  • November
  • December
2010 2011 2012
  • January 11
  • February 21
  • March 28
  • April 36
  • May 45
  • June 56
  • July 25
  • August 18
  • September 31
  • October 61
  • November 19
  • December 13
2010 2011
  • January
  • February
  • March
  • April
  • May
  • June 14
  • July 21
  • August 21
  • September 21
  • October 51
  • November 39
  • December 47