I am back home for the holidays~! I am enjoying speaking Dutch, sitting at a table, petting the dog, talking to Pol, and taking showers with hot water and water pressure. Also, giant piles of snow.

It was a bit of a drama getting home. I was at the airport on time, had plenty of time to wander through the tax free shops, bought myself a giant chocolate chip cookie at the Starbucks and spent about an hour drawing people in the line for boarding the plane before mine.

But once everyone was on the plane (after a ten minute delay) we were told that the weather in Holland was so bad that they couldn't fly for an hour. Of course, there were the typical worrying gossips, shouting that the tiny car that drove by the plane was going to get the luggage, and such. I just grabbed my sketchbook and started drawing again, which kept the two older ladies in my row amused as well. Thankfully, after an hour and a half delay, we got off the ground.

Pol and my uncle were waiting for me at the airport, and then we proceeded to drive home, get lost at least twice... but that was okay because we got to pass the cool technicoloured bridge twice. It glows different colours. It's awesome.

Then, once we were in Uden, my brother called to say he was stranded in a nearby town because the busses stopped driving in the snowy weather, so we drove to pick him up. I think we got back at about eleven.

Next up on the agenda, besides SITTING AT A REAL TABLE: Wrapping Christmas presents, cooking my now-famous chicken-bacon recipe for Pol and IB, petting the dog some more, building a snowman and visiting Granny.

So... I was just locked out of the house for an hour and a half. Some idiot had broken off their key in the door, so that when I got home, I couldn't get in. I called Liam, who called someone in Dublin, who called a locksmith... then called me back to ask, are you really sure it's nessecary? Can't you get it out yourself? Because it's really expensive.

Yes, I said, I'm sure it's needed, because there is a piece of metal stuck in the lock all the way at the back of it. No, I do not have magical Magneto powers that can coax it out. The girl said she'd call a locksmith, promised to pay me back (uhuh) and hung up. Ten minutes later, I get a text.

The locksmith is coming... in an hour.

Luckily, the head of Campaigns, my Boss-boss if it were, lives in the next street and invited me to dinner tonight at seven. So, I walked down, apologised for being early (she looked so surprised) and explained the situation. So I got to hang out in her house for forty or so minutes, before I went back, just in case the locksmith was early.

He wasn't, but at least he was vaguely on time. It took him half an hour to get the little broken off piece of key out of the lock. Thankfully, it wasn't one of the house's keys, because I would have really had a fit if someone in our house had broken off their key in the lock and then wandered off without telling anyone.

So now, I'm 120 euros poorer, my room is 12 degrees, my feet are numb and I'm due back at my Bossboss' house in... seven minutes.

The good thing was, I'd gotten my rent money out yesterday. We pay rent on the 19th. So, I've decided that, because the rent is now short 120 euros, Liam (the guy I pay rent to) is quite possibly not around for the weekend... I'm just not going to pay my rent. I'm just going to tell Liam, look, I won't pay this month, and then at the end of January, you won't have to pay me back my deposit. That'll save us both some trouble.

Well, that's what I'll say. Really, I'm just not sure I trust him enough to actually give me back the deposit.

Excuse me for the lack of coherent thought, spelling mistakes and run on sentences, but I can't feel my fingers. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a lovely homecooked meal made by the most awesome boss ever.

I had a good day today. I got a thank-you in the Staff Newsletter for my envelope stuffing for the finance department, which was pretty neat. I was also plied with cookies by the lady doing most of the stuffing with me, because she thought we deserved something to break the monotony.

I got out of work early, promptly missed my bus. I was just on the other side of the road when the traffic light went, and the cars started rushing by. The bus drove off before the cars stopped. So I went to get a Christmas present for someone I'd totally forgotten to put on my list, and stopped by Lush for some lip balm. I've never had much of a problem with cracked dry lips, but the Crazy Irish Wind is too much for me. I was accosted by three sales people, but only bought my lip calm and two 1 euro Charity Pots things. Also, I made a Sad Face at a saleslady about not being able to afford another face mask, really only so I wouldn't be talked into buying one, but then she gave me a free sample.

Then I once again missed my bus and saw it drive away and decided No, I will Not 'just nip into Easons', because then I'd miss my bus again. I finally managed to get a ride home and managed to walk THROUGH THE PARK before the gates closed.

Also, today is Gandalf's birthday, so I called home. He was happy with his card and the little portrait I did with my watercolours of 'his' adopted donkey, named Donk.

And now, I am going to watch Topgear and relax and be lazy. So all in all, a good day.

Ugh, I'm not sure what it is, but my dreams lately have been crazy. Violent, angry and creepy. Maybe it has something to do with the temperature... my feet are usually freezing when I go to bed, so I use a hot waterbottle and two blankets to keep warm, but then during the night, I'll either throw one blanket off and wake up freezing or keep it on and sweat all night. I also keep waking up at strange hours, like three or four in the morning.

So, my first dream involved a crazy serial killer who demanded I stay close and follow him around or he'd kill me. And I knew he would, because he was much stronger than me. I tried to stab him with scissors, but that didn't work. It was frustrating and scary and I kept trying to kill him and it didn't work.

This morning, I had two dreams, one before I woke up at four and one after. The before was odd. I spent it shouting at my dream neighbours for mauling my dream-dog. The dog was a fairly ugly mutt of a thing, small and brown and with bristley fur. He kept going outside and slipping under the weirdly-high-off-the-ground fence into the neighbour's garden, who had a two dogs themselves. But they'd shout at me and then injure the dog in some way. I asked if we could put chicken wire or something on the bottom of the fence, so the dog couldn't slip under it, but they just said I should keep my dog out of their yard... even though their dogs followed mine back into my yard.

By the end of it, I was in their yard, screaming my head off while the cops came. The dog meanwhile had only one eye left, had lost an entire limb and had four deep scratches in his side, and no fur around it. He must have been some kind of zombie-dog, he looked gruesome.

Then I woke up, shuddered and cleared my head and tried to go back to sleep.

The second dream involves a friendly school competition about murdering all your classmates. You got to choose one weapon, only it couldn't be a conventional weapon. Then you went out and killed each other. People would be murdered and then revive, but they'd still feel the horrible pain. In the beginning, I was in the cafeteria, joking and helping people thing up weapons. Planks of wood, makeshift knives... Then, it became clear I would have to participate as well. I spent most my time avoiding a crazy girl with a home made bow and arrow, and trying to convince people I wasn't playing, I was just there to take pictures.


What the hell, subconcious. Stop trying to push me into violent situations. Or if you do, at least give me a fighting chance.

Awesome things this week:
-Teenage schoolgirls (in UNIFORMS) at the busstop talking about horror movies: "But most horror movies about evil things and ghosts and stuff are set in America. So then, I just think: 'You're across the ocean, bitch, you're across the ocean'." Then she did a little groovey dance and sang it.
-I have signed up to write for Associated Content, which lets you write articles about whatever you want, and then for every 1000 page views, you get $1.50. (And if you're American, you can get money just for posting about certain topics they want articles on.) So please, check out my first article? All the money will... probably go into me buying stuff from Etsy.
-Thursday night and having the house (and thus the TV) to myself to watch Bones (WITH STEPHEN FRY) and Lie To Me.
-The fact that the week went by so quick, it kind of feels like two days ago it was also Friday.
-Finding a youtube channel that has all the episodes of all the versions of Jonny Quest ever. You cannot resist the bad plots and homosexual subtext. And the erm... not so subtext-y homosexuality. Race Bannon was aparently voted Mother Of The Year on Cartoon Network.
-I am going to cook an awesome dinner. Probably.

I've had a rather strange week. I've gotten to do a lot of awesome things, all of which were slightly marred by little things, like the fact that it meant I couldn't get my groceries done, or that I felt awful because of some kind of cold-flu thing that has made me tired, ache all over and listless for the past few days.

First off, the big news: THE GREETINGS CARD CAMPAIGN IS UP. The first booklets have gone to the printer. You can check it out here, or by clicking the link at the right hand corner of amnesty.ie.

I'm pretty proud of my work on the booklet, even though the end result is less than brilliant. There are formatting mistakes in it that weren't there when I handed it off. The phone number on the first page has an extra digit, which is down to lazy copy-pasting and lack of proof reading on my part. But the cases are of people who would really benefit from the cards. So, if you have some extra cards and stamps laying around, or you would like to do something to balance your karma, please consider checking it out.


Secondly, for the first time since, well, ever, I went to a pub and enjoyed it. We went to a pub, then dinner, then another pub as a going-away celebration for two members of Amnesty. Amnesty people, even when they get drunk, are awesome and intelligent and talk about interesting things (like the idiot at X and Y bureau or new Campaigning strategies). And perhaps also the fact that the pubs we went to didn't play loud music, so I didn't have to pretend I could hear people and try to lip-read. I've gone to parties and gone out for drinks with my friends from the VA, but a pub is something different.

Of course, being out late and walking through the cold probably helped me contract the plague-flu, but still, I had an awesome time.

On Friday, I got to go to a meeting of the Joint Consortium on Gender Based Violence, which presented an Issues paper on Gender Based Violence, Poverty and Development. An interesting read, a bonus because I can use it on my reading-and-translation project, and a wonderful experience. It's always interesting to sit in a room with people much more intelligent than you are. And especially when you get the rundown of what some of it means back at the office.

Then, I went home and... basically slept most of the weekend. In between sleeping, I have eaten oranges. On Saturday, I woke up from my night-nurse induced haze at half past 12, managed to get a shower, breakfast and put my clothes in the washing machine before I needed another nap.

Between my stomach and my grumpy-ness, I decided to spend this Irish Bank Holiday at home, lazing about, doing laundry and listening to podcasts, instead of the super productive present-shopping, grocery-getting and walking I had planned. If I feel very brave, I will walk to the miniTescos on the other end of the park to buy myself a pizza for dinner.


In other news, has everyone seen the picture of the new A-Team cast?

I think it's hilarious. Besides the fact that they all look photoshopped, I think they did a pretty good job. Hannibal looks like Hannibal, BA looks suitably manly and tough Murdock... well, the angles in his face work, though I'm not too sure about the hair.

But Face? Argh. That's not my Face. He looks more like... that werewolf boy from Buffy than the suave, smoothtalking sexbomb I remember. Really, with a little extra make-up, a stunt-double and some hair dye, they could have just asked back Dirk Bennedict. The man is like a vampire. He hardly ages! It's actually kind of creepy.

Note to self: Telephones are really not that scary. Really. Yes, really.

I hate telephones. Well, that's not true. I am so greatful for my mobile, which has helped me keep in touch with my mum (and therefore, sane) in the Week With No Internet. But professional, getting-shit-done phonecalls? Terrify me. Working on the new campaign, I have already had to make two phone calls. One meant getting someone's voicemail, the other, just ten minutes ago, was spent talking to a lovely, funny English guy at the main office, who had an awesome accent.

And yet, it takes me half an hour (or more) to gear up to picking up the phone. I get sweaty hands. I get warm. I doodle half a page full of cats, squids, potted plants and wine bottles while my subconcious weighs the importance of the call and if I could get away with pretending I just forgot to make it. After all, is it that important?

No, I tell my brain, but I said I would. It's my responsibility. And it's just ridiculous that I'm so worried. The person on the other line will want to help you. You're working with them. It's their job.

But I did it, I didn't stutter, I got shit done, and now, I am going to celebrate my succesful phone call with a bowl full of chocolate pepernoten.

... aparently, according to the computer, I have no internet. Yet my Skype is working and well... I can load websites. HURRAH! DON'T BE A FLUKE, INTERNET.

I was home late last night, around seven, when I asked the housemate who is the actual account-holder if he'd called Eircom, like he promised he would. He said he hadn't. So I glared, sighed and slammed some kitchen doors, which is basically what he does when I'm in control of the remote. I think he got the message, because all of a sudden he was dialing.

Then, after explaining to the person on the other line we'd been without internet for seven days and they'd promised to have it fixed within five days, he got the answer that made me want to slam some more doors. "We never got a complaint." Meaning that a) someone there was not doing their work seven days ago and b) my housemate should have listened to me and called the freaking fifth day, and we'd have had internet already.

So, kids, fingers crossed that this isn't a fluke and we'll still have the 'net when I get home.

Hello my name is Inny, and I am an addict. An internet-addict.

Seriously, though, if the net is not back by tonight, I am liable to attack one of my housemates with a frying pan. I imagine being this cranky is how a smoker feels when they're trying to quit.

I spent the weekend reading, reading and reading some more. I finished two books, well over 700 pages all together, I think. And while I generally enjoy reading, I don't when it's the only activity I can do for fun. I spent the weekend bored out of my skull. I did my laundry. I went shopping, managed to get everything I needed in half an hour, and spent another semi-bored hour in town just so I wouldn't have to go home. I visited the library to do schoolwork.

I tried to draw, then realised my drawings sucked because I didn't have any reference pictures. I did some homework, but for most of it, I need the 'net to get to the documents. I did not watch television, because it had been taken over by other people, and there's only so much rugby and football I can stand.

It's not until this weekend I realised how dependant I am on the internet. Not only to do the things I enjoy, like reading blogs, fanfiction and webcomics, listening to music and podcasts and watching television. But also for communicating with the rest of the world. I didn't get any news, didn't speak to any of my friends, couldn't keep in touch with my family... I phoned home and racked up a pretty amazing phone-bill, just because it was so weird not to talk to anyone the entire day.

It's kind of creepy how much it affected me. I started sleeping in until a ridiculous hour, because I knew there was nothing waiting for me. I didn't even eat properly on saturday. I'm pretty sure my dinner consisted of three Oreo cookies that day. I was listless, and by Sunday, I was cranky.