Bringing Fenian back!

I have realised that this blog, at first, is going to be a blog about having a blog. But that's the nature of the beast. It would also appear that I got a bit carried away as most of my pageviews were by ME. I've sorted that now but it has somewhat burst my bubble.

Anyhoo, most posts are going to be a bit of a mish-mash, a collection of musings and tit-bits.

tit-bits anyone?

How is Abu Hamza going to get through airport security???? (that was my semi-topical obvious un-funny reference of the day) Mr. Rusbridger are you paying attention yet?

On another note, I have decided to reclaim the word 'fenian'. The fenians were a band of warriors in old Ireland that could be called upon in times of war. In the 19th and 20th centuries the fenians was a term for organisations committed to the creation of an Irish Republic, free from British Rule. However, the term is mostly used nowadays as an insult to Catholics, Irish Nationalists, and Irish Republicans.

I am as fenian as they come, tá gaeilge agam( I know 'fenian speak', pronounced 'shpake'), I play hurling( fenian-stickin') and I love potatoes (fenian food). Our fenian-ness is not something to be ashamed of. Irish culture is celebrated all over the world yet has become politicised on our own confused little island. We throw about the word fenian casually and sometimes ironically, but beneath the craic, there is a genuine sense of pride.

Nationalism in the truest sense of the word. This is not the sense of Irish identity that is proud to be anything but British. Neither is it the bland, non-identity that we are told to accept in the North. St. Patrick's day for example, in my local town, there were no shamrocks and very little green so as to be all-inclusive. A beige St. Patrick's Day appeals to no one.

-fenian stickin'-

This is why I am on a mission to bring fenian back. Its an Irish word for Irish people, north and south.

 

Confused little island

Now that I have set the tone for my blog, I am going to display to all those journalistic head-hunters (Mr. Rusbridger I know you're there) that apart from being incredibly witty, I have hard-hitting social and political views that I should share because I take myself and everything else incredibly seriously.

- the confused little island, as seen from space -

In an interview with radio 4’s Today programme, Peter Robinson, the First minister (of Northern Ireland) once described a state of ‘religious apartheid’ in schools in Northern Ireland. He went on to say that, “we bring children up in different schools and then we scratch our heads when there’s division in society.” This division is so glaringly obvious and serves as another example of why Ireland is the most confused little island on the planet.

From the ages of four and five, catholic children go to catholic schools and have catholic friends, protestant children go to protestant schools and have protestant friends, then after seven years of catholic children being in catholic schools and having catholic friends and protestant children being in protestant schools and having protestant friends the catholic children go to catholic secondary schools and meet more catholic friends and the protestant children go to non-catholic secondary schools and meet more protestant friends. Generally speaking.

I was no different, the only time I met someone from ‘the other side’ would be during strange EMU trips or when we saw the other side’s take on the nativity. It was the nativity plays more than the tropical bird related days out that confused me. Not  understanding the significance of the Act of Union or them pesky 800 years as a five year old meant that the explanation boiled down to - they’re a different religion - but in their Christmas play the baby Jesus was still the baby Jesus, he didn’t do anything strange, most of the time he was just a plastic doll.

The result of this early segregation, on my part anyway, was that I didn’t have a full conversation with anyone from the other side in twelve years of living. Children are impressionable and this segregation from an early age can have a lasting impact. Realistically though, parents cannot be expected to stop sending their children to their preferred schools. Unfortunately, a lack of understanding is the result. Catholic children do not understand what it means to be protestant when the only obvious difference is the school or place of worship they attend and protestant children have misconceptions as to what Catholic schools are like. It would be completely possible and is actually relatively common for a young person from either side to have reached the age of 18 without ‘crossing the sectarian divide’.

The ‘peace process’ will seem an undoubted success for the next twenty years at least, only because my generation are being treated like naughty children. ‘Right, that’s it! You go play on that side of the room and you on the other!’ It isn’t a shared society, now our parents have bought us each the exact same toy to stop us fighting.

allons'y agus léan ar aghaidh

This counts as my first step into the media(ish), where there is more to be seen than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done, it's the circle of life!! oh, apologies. More, the circle of lies! BOOM! I don't pull any punches (i'm not really sure what that actually means, is it the opposite  to 'throwing' a punch) Anyway, though I doubt anybody is reading this (if you are, hello), I'm Joe, a male person, from Ireland - County Fermanagh, Inishmore, Lough Erne, between the green bridge and the boring one, opposite a barn, behind a wall, above the ground, below the sky, and beside a chicken, to be exact - and I have decided to inflict my opinions on the world if you'll be kind enough to have me.

- a nice garden in Dublin for your enjoyment (don't actually go there, I don't Know who owns it, just look at the nice picture) - 

I want to write, in any medium and hopefully in many (ink, blood etc.), reading's not too bad either but I become jealous very quickly. Usually internally spewing out the words "why didn't I think of that?" or on the rarest of occasions "I did think of that!" When that happens, I am blessed with both pride and an emerald envy that wrenches my competitive nature. Somehow I am both completely competitive and utterly lazy. A combination destined for disaster.

I prefer to see my laziness as an appreciation for relaxation. This, coupled with an unrivalled aptitude for procrastination, is me. I am the best at putting things on the long finger (and my digits are appropriately stretched). But enough about me, what about you? Look at me engaging with my audience. Look at me and my early venture into self-parody. If this doesn't convince Alan Rusbridger to give me a job, nothing will.

This blog is basically going to be my mind spew but in a Times New Roman font, on the internet, and with my actual name and accurate directions to my house included. It can only end well. (slán)