Renewal (I wrote this when I was 14 years old)

Frustration bellows the firey wheel,
that turns the clock of life,
as he and darkness share a meal,
by his sunned daytime wife.

The meal he thought to celebrate,
collapsing of the end,
of times he felt it grow too late,
his lonliness to end.

His shadowed youth,
the starry bends of his farstretching fruits,
too know he has found a friend,
a friend to the bitter end.

Code Red

You invaded my planet

Illegal trespasser

I returned you to the border

You begged asylum

Push the door

I said no

Access my control panel

I rang on alert

Red lights flashed in the exchange

Fear bent my spine

Barbarian you frothed

My tears nutured cruel intent

Tapped the joy from my body

Collected in vials, hung around your neck

No Space

Condense for me

Accelerate, particulate

Gaseous state I cannot infiltrate

Droplets on my skin

We reach a tight junction

The room swallows us whole

Ceiling tips my nose

A warplane swoops by

You invade my planet

[Mis]Adventurous Us

When you pinned the flower to my chest it was as always with too much vigour. The pin punctured the skin, I gasped from the little pain. The blood drop stained my shirt. We would never be with out misadventure.

The day we met again it rained. It rained because I wanted it to. I wanted to wash away my old life. But sometimes those stains do not come out and that old life still has surprises in store. But I took a new photo of you for my mind with my eyes. Flash and capture. You stood in the doorway and watched me. My soul spilled to the ground heavy and fluid mingling with the wet sidewalk. You gnawed at my beating heart with piercing toothed eyes. Fortuitous times had expired. I did not want to eat that apple, it was poisoned. I ran through the rain.

You said that love did not exist. We had waited at the death bed for a while so I climbed in and lay down. You ran all over town searching for me. I was beside you and you refused to look. You said you forgot what I looked like.

To Help You See There's Three

Three blind mice, lets see how they run.

Fiona O'Mahony - RoboticColorDesigns 2010

Moo to You (Because I Love You)

Home is where the cow is, no really it is!

Fiona O'Mahony - RoboticColorDesigns 2010

Don't Stop Looking At Each Other

Moment's happen so we cling to each other and embrace, no longer strangers. Friends and lovers. Our roots touch. Biological synergization.

H-a-P-P-y

Last nights dream...

I can spell it and I can say it. Now I want to own it. My happiness comes and goes. The hourglass is turned and my happiness bulges at the bottleneck slowly trickling through. But it slips by and eventually the last grains drop. I find it hard to hold the reins of happiness, it does not come naturally. The horse bolts and bucks, I grab at the reins and try and salvage some control but all is lost. I am the master, the keeper but I regularly fail at the post. The horse races from magical meadows and bolts for dirty waters. It submerges pulling me under. I glance to the beautiful landscape left in vain and feel the water choke my lungs. But it is a dream and I am in control. The lake drains and I lay on beautiful golden sands. The sun fuels batteries and smiles in amplitudes, all is found. Lost was another chapter. The ending has not yet been written.............I find a pen, the empty page and you.......

Lunchtime Love

She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Some kind of heavenly orchestra played in his ear. Together they would start a love story bigger than the world. In his head the deep voice narrated the lines and the echoing music began the soundtrack. His heart warmed as the blood rushed through his valves increasingly oxygenated by his engrossing gulps of breath. Of course he imagined these exact lines in his head and listened to the air whistle through his nostrils. He lived his life to that invisible film reel. He imagined the camera panning from his soft curled hair to the edge of his nostril which flared from the scent of the beauties perfume. Panned to his eyes dilated and fixed. His muse looked over her curved shoulder through her crystal green eyes to smile at the obvious stare. Always in the same corner, they were old friends who had never met. The girl always seemed sad and ill at ease with the world. He imagined a battered tortured soul under that top knotted hair and porcelain skin. A Slight frame held the weight of the girls own oppression. She licked her pink lips as she turned from his gaze. He lifted his pen and continued to write on the warm yellow pad with coffee trimmed edges.

He laid his head sideways on the pad and stared in her direction. He stared at her through the gap between the milk jug and the sugar dispenser. Both objects acted as blinkers on a horse, cutting out the view around her magnificence. Then she turned again holding a rough sketch of an eye on a stained napkin. She grabbed her worn brown leather bag and left the café. Curly haired boy threw some money on the table and grabbed the napkin as he passed her table. ‘I see you too’ was written under the sketch. He sprung from the café on his worn converse and glanced up and down the crowded street. This was the scene in the movie when he finally could talk to her if he could find her. He saw her turn into Union Square and hop on the tram. Running under the hot sun he ran for the tram as it threatened to start up the hill. She reached down and grabbed his arm gesturing him to climb aboard. His dark skin glistened with the sheen of sweat from the run and his brown eyes met hers. They embraced each other’s gaze as he caught his breath.

He wanted to touch the face of this stranger and cup the heart shape in his hand. Her teeth bit her bottom lip as she stared at the sun and squinted in its response. He stared also as if there was something he was supposed to see. She looked at him and smiled weakly, briefly flashing her enticing teeth. He had no idea as to how teeth could be enticing but somehow every scrap of his being wanted every scrap of hers. The camera panned to his eyes then hers with slices of bright sunlight casting shapes on faces. His arm pressed against hers as they clung to the side of the tram. The tram groaned up the hill. “Feels like it could die at any moment” said the pretty one “but it will keep going because that’s what it does”. She stepped from the tram as it stopped. He jumped down and stood beside her. She took a notepad from her bag , tore a page out and scribbled on the piece of paper. She folded it and passed the precious cargo to its eager recipient. Gazing at the sun again she turned and left him and the staring brown eyes. Her gold pumps scuffed the ground as she walked away. He watched as she walked across the park her body swaying with each step. He opened the piece of paper and saw the digits and a message: I always knew there was another sun. He grasped the paper and smelt it for any remnants of the authors incredible scent. Rubbed his finger along the flow of her handwriting.

Science of Equilibrium

Tip leans hard, feel the score
Pulsating move pushes
Threatens to open to join
Perilous motions easily done

Life on the edge, on the edge of his thumb
Increase the pressure
Air flows to the lungs
Rapidly, rapidly, increasing flux
Eyeballs dilated and nostrils flare wide

Hairs erect arm length
Tinnitus bounds
Buzzing man, buzzing man
All fucking around

The air all around him
Vie choke tracheal space
Too much for the living
Desired by the dead

Mortality festering
Flies descend in mind
Too much for the eyes open
Too little said unsaid

The exit sign glows bright
Rescue hatch shrinks out of sight
Sweat runs down the cold shiny
Baby need you

Check angles and calculate costs
Square root the outcome
His logic mind pounds
Transmitters pump wild

Revenge in Rhyme

Red temptress dress
Makes the weak man confess
Long legs stalk the mind
He regrets what he finds

For this is the hour
She confounds her power
Beat merciless threats
She cancels all debts

The tick tick tocks on
He chokes on this con
For the lady will skin
Till he's nought but thin

Time never will let
The lady forget
She plucks out the feather
From her corset of leather

For he knew the devil
Her swung out on a bevel
He chortled with glee
She never did see

Now is the time
To punish his crime
To even hot score
So she never no more

Hold on to the Ghost

Girl stepped outside the door and smelt life
She smelt nothing
She will hold on longer
When they meet it will smell so sweet

She will not give up the ghost, will hold on till they meet
She cries tears with crystal salt
Lyophilized splashes on blush touched cheeks
Lost is her reality

The day is bright, the day is hot but smells of nothing grand
He touches the clock and traces the hand that records his time on land
Night dreams seep into day and mask the scent of daily drool
Her imagined face translucent on the office wall to his eyes only all

Joyous the day when he traces that face
She will breath in the scent of his soul and watch her map unfold
Joyous the bond to be soldered one day
When two life's fuse, count as one

Class: Modern Birds (Subclass: Womanius Multitaskirus)

Exhaustion sometimes blocks my view. We live in a ever changing fast-paced modern world. Sometimes all I see is blurred streaks and the clock ticks so loud as time runs by. The pressure on women in this new millennium, even in the era of sex equality, is increasing. Woman must now balance career and family life. Not all men got the memo on stepping up to the table and dealing with some diapers but enjoy that their lady has a successful career. Woman be cooking, Men be golfing. Now the ladies are out on the golf course toting pink diamond sweaters, because on top of a career and growing babies you must be active. Sounds bloody exhausting to me, a single, childless bird. The female of the species is an amazing creature and will deal with this using her seemingly unlimited capacity for multi-tasking. Sometimes screaming....dying inside whilst maintaining a flawless composure in life. Mary Poppins, Martha Stewart and Hilary Clinton all baked in an oven together to create the all seeing, doing and knowing lady.

Virgina Woolf wrote all about this in the form of Mrs Clarissa Dalloway. 'Mrs Dalloway would buy the flowers herself' starts off the story of a woman which in my mind represents the essence of female. A day in the life of a young woman, post World War I, and her preparations for a party she is about to execute that very evening. The perfect hostess struggling with a inner conflict but mantaining that polished exterior. She would of course buy the flowers herself and retain control of every portion of her perfect existence. Woolf struggled with her own existence throughout the drafting of this manuscript. Struggled with her own mortality through the eyes of the fictional Mrs Dalloway. In the film 'The Hours' (a film every woman should watch) she endlessly balances whether Clarissa should kill herself or save herself. Modern day living has always maintained woman like a marionette on a string. Woman will never cut the strings as society will never allow. Sometimes I feel like a spider in a jar with the weight of womanhood sealing like a lid. A small air hole gives me just enough to breath. Even if the lid is removed and I have a choice to leave the classical notions of what a woman should be I would scurry and slip on the glass and probably never get to the top so I will do what is expected.

Womanius Multitaskirus is a common species occurring all over the world. They are a usually calm and organized species unfortunately plagued by strong hormonal surges resulting in strange behaviour. This behaviour can result in tears, anger, consumption of chocolate and the 'don't touch me' phenomenon. These behaviours in some cases have been noted for the greater spotted male genus. Some experimental evidence actually points to some theories that men may also experience hormonal fluxing and I goddamn hope this to be true. I told a previous boyfriend about the complexities of the Mrs Dalloway book and how I really identified with the character. He said when Virginia wrote the story it was probably her time of the month. This is what we are up against!

Introduction, Methods, Results, Discussion, Conclusion, References...........

The written word is one of man kinds biggest achievements. Writing for me can be a bit tedious. This has stemmed from the inordinate amount of scientific writing I do for my career. It has taken about 9 years for me to fine tune my writing for medical journals. This writing comes naturally to me now and my manuscripts read well. My last paper was 'clear, concise and well written' according to a referee. I have published 7 papers to date in the area of endocrinology in top journals in my field. My last paper published in Molecular Endocrinology was selected as a translational highlight by the Endocrine Society no mean feat for a junior scientist. Absolutely fantastic for my research career but I have a problem that has stemmed from this. Scientific writing consists of short and concise sentences. It is a very structured type of approach to writing, almost military like. No room for any type of poetic licence tactics. Serious is the word to best convey the sense of the writing. Not that it is lacking style. When you love the research it can be a joy to read a very well written and savvy article. I live my life through bar charts, standard errors, anovas, t-tests, scatter plots, DNA sequences, protein sequences as a way of discussing what I do. Recently I decided that I would like to sit the MCAT exam required for admission to medical school. I am not sure if my desire to be a medical doctor outweighs being a doctor of research but I am a person that likes to keep my options open. In years to come I do not wish to look back and say I failed to try the exam or that I closed that option regardless of what I decide to do. One more road to choose at that intersection is no harm. My main problem in regards to the MCAT exam is writing. Not scientific writing but as we in the lab like to call it 'flowery writing'. Sometimes in scientific writing a person can become a little loose within the text and hence 'flowery writing'. The MCAT essay section requires the candidate to write a well balanced essay incorporating various aspects of general knowledge into a passage that is punchy, witty, intelligent, sharp, humorous and shows the candidates humanity. Also grammar is a factor and this I must work on. Scientific journals tend to fix most grammatical errors at the editing phase post acceptance of the article. I am drowning myself in history, geography, social science, the humanities, literature and many other subjects at present. The MCAT requires passages not written in an extremely loose format but balances a definate structured approach with a twist. I need to find out how to do the twist, this is the problem! One of the reasons I started this blog was to start to remove the barriers that confine me to the world of scientific writing and let the river flow a little in a different direction for the sake of sitting this exam. There will be no defined theme during my time in blogger land as I will broach a number of different subjects. But it will give a platform to sit and try my hand at free form writing

Japan-itis

One of my most recent loves in life is Japan. I went to visit in summer 2009 and spent some time with an Irish friend that now lives outside of Tokyo. It was one of my most inspiring trips. Japan is a very aesthetic country with one of the friendliest peoples I have encountered. Everything about Japan breaths cultured ambiance. I initially flew into Tokyo to meet up with a small group of Irish people now living there. I was initially struck by the small proportions of everything, from cars to the size of my friends apartment, which is referred to as a 'business mans apartment'. Having come from the USA I felt like I had arrived in hobbit headquarters. My first night was like a scene from Lost in Translation. We went and rented a Karaoke room and proceeded to get inebriated on sake lime. Everything about Japanese technology is space age. The karaoke was controlled using handheld touch screens and as I got tipsy I was sure the Japanese script was making more sense. The intoxicated mess of Irish people was a little too much for the Japanese waitress who suffered through a rendition of 'isn't she lovely, made from love' from the Irish boys every time new pints were delivered. In the end we were asked to vacate the premises. My first night in Japan was great fun!

Tokyo was everything I imagined, skyscrapers, crazy side alleys with small restaurants and stores. We ventured into one restaurant at the top of a little stairwell. Two people were eating dinner at the time and in addition to our group of four the restaurant was full - shut down until we were finished. Japanese food is fresh and absolutely delish, but a side note, sometimes in Asia you can be unsure of what you are eating. I found that out once or twice by the nice hives that developed. I had an amazing time in Tokyo. Harajuku was fun, lots of crazy outfits, shoes, hats and PEOPLE! The crowd surged down the main street of this shopping area and in between you would briefly see a harajuku styled girl in her puffy dresses. I walked through the Shibuya district and the worlds largest pedestrian crossing. I left Tokyo and travelled to a small town, Tokai, in the Ibaraki region. I spent some time unwinding and walked around the town to the stares of the locals. It was definitely a small town! While I was chilling in Tokai I had the great opportunity to attend a town meeting and meet the Mayor. I sat at the table (with my name written in Japanese script) and was amazed. The group consisted of foreigners living in Tokai that had come together to discuss different issues with the mayor in regards to language barriers etc. Indian, Pakistani, Chinese, Irish, English, French all came together under the umbrella of speaking Japanese. I was honored to be a part of a very unique evening and one of the Majors friendly assistants patiently translated into English for me. The evening was ended by a session of traditional oban dancing. The dance consisted of using hand movements to demonstrate the rising sun, the mountains, water etc. Unfortunately I had very little rhythm and the video evidence will remain hidden for a long time!

Almost a week after I arrived to Japan my friend and I travelled by bullet train to Kyoto. The bullet train was a great experience on how advanced Japan really is in every aspect of design and technology. Japan = efficiency. The train ride was long but enjoyable interrupted by sessions of Japanese beer and edamme. In Kyoto we stayed in traditional Japanese hotel called a Ryokan. The floor is tatami-matted, the beds are futons and a small table to take tea is provided. We donned our yukatas and drank green tea in the seiza position. Slowly into our first night the tea in the small cups was replaced by Japanese beer and I decided everyone at home needed pictures of me standing fully clothed in the bath (to understand the small proportions of the bathroom suite). Kyoto was a magical concoction of temples, castles, shrines, stepping stones, geisha's and zen gardens. I felt inspired. I felt free. I reached through the clutter of mind and touched my soul. It was a bad case of Japanitis. After 4 days in Kyoto my friend left to return to Tokai and I stayed on for a conference in physiology. The conference turned out to be very stimulating and they put an amazing show displaying traditional Japanese drumming. For some reason all the crazy Japanese physiologists wanted pictures with me. I think it was the crazy blond hair. My friend living in Tokai explained that a lot of the research groups like to take pictures with people from other countries to show they are interacting at an international level. Great people.

After Kyoto I travelled to Hiroshima, the site of the A Bomb. It took 8 hours to get to Hiroshima in total. I spent that time reflecting on many different areas of my life. Japan does that to a person, I think it was the culture difference. I felt beauty, love, ambiance and so many other things. I also thought about what Hiroshima might look like and how it would feel. Going to Hiroshima I was leaving behind my problems as one person and experiencing the problems faced by mankind.

Hiroshima is a bright and vibrant city. Shiny office blocks are outlined against the sky and people run about in business suits, carrying Starbucks coffee cups and briefcases. The city has become a cosmopolitan abyss. I checked into the Ryokan which turned out not to be the fairytale version I saw in Kyoto but it was fine for one night. The intention was not to stay in Hiroshima but when I arrived the need to stay was overwhelming. The owner of the Ryokan spoke no English and had a crazy miniature poodle. She seemed a little nervous of how to deal with an Irish woman. Luckily I had learned the Japanese word for cute and I pointed at the dog and said kawaii. She loved this and said my baby in English. We were now bff's and I headed off to tour Hiroshima.

I could see the A dome in the distance. The only building in the city to survive the nuclear bomb fallout of 1945. The skeleton of the building was harsh and edgy. Ugly and beautiful. An ugly reminder of what mankind is capable of, a beautiful reminder that we are strong enough to withstand. I walked through the peace park and came across the paper cranes. Thousands stringed together, made by hands big and small in many different colors. While I peered through the glass shelters housing the cranes for peace a Japanese woman and her twenty something daughter approached me. The mother from under her umbrella asked me if she could talk to me and practice her English. Sure, no problem. She asked me a few subtle questions and then asked me if mankind could be saved. I said that it was up to mankind but evil will always be among us in the form of people who do terrible acts but we will always rise above that. Then she asked me if I thought god would save us. I said I did not believe in god most likely due to the fact that I am a scientist and very evidence driven but I did believe in the spirit of the human race and their propensity to do good. She had some trouble understanding and her daughter translated. Mother rolled her eyes and hissed at me thrusting a pamphlet in my direction asking me to read out loud to her. I kindly declined and said I had to go as the rain was starting again. Her heart was in the right place and I am sure she is praying for my soul! Strolling through the peace park I felt a sense of serenity even though this was the location of a major atrocity. I forgot my own troubles and really thought about the world and us ants climbing all over it. I came to a memorial to the victims of the nuclear bomb shaped in the form of the arch. Through the centre of the arch in the distance the A dome was visible. Flowers flowed over the cold granite pavement contrasting against the wet grey and bottles of water stacked like soldiers. Water for the victims to be remembered, many whom died of extreme dehydration. The peace museum was well laid out and really told the story from the people on the ground that day. Parents searching for children, children searching for parents. The extreme circumstances that people met that day.......people died instantly, people burned, skin melted and fell from peoples bones, from women's, from men's, from children's. All at the hand of man. The museum went through the history behind the bomb right to the story of the victim. A huge globe was displayed with miniature nuclear warheads in different colors stuck to different countries indicating quantity and size of warheads held by certain countries. It was then I realized we lived life on the brink. Surely man has learnt from their mistakes? Lest it ever happens again. It would certainly be an apocalypse. Peace out on my Hiroshima section.

Following my trip to Hiroshima the next stop shop was Miyajima Island to visit the The floating shrine of Itsukushima. The shrine is listed on the UNESCO world heritage list and was recommended by my Tokai pal. I took a boat out to the island in the blistering heat of July. In Kyoto I was eaten alive by some kind of invisible unknown bugs and took the opportunity to soak up some Vitamin D from the sun during the trip over. I mentioned this to a Japanese friend living in Los Angeles and she laughed 'summer in Kyoto'. The island was very pretty. An island said to be sacred. No person shall be born on the island or die on the island. No industry shall take place on the island. I waded out to the shrine and took pictures beside the monstrous structure. I met a fellow tourist and we took pictures for each other and stood under the huge frame of the shrine shooting the breeze about our travels. The sun was hot and I was in heaven. I wandered around for a while watching the deer and took some pictures of one ransacking a backpack and munching on a guidebook! A shuttle bus took us up to the foot of Mount Misen. We boarded a cable car and travelled up the side of the mountain. Vast amounts of green foliage was visible through the cable car window. An jaw dropping view met my eye. Up and up we travelled pulled along the cable. Towards the end of the journey I realized I was sharing my journey with a strange large blue alien like bug. I stepped out of the cable car with a shoe in one hand to the amusement of the operators! The view from the top of Mount Misen was breathtaking. Blue sky and bluer water punctuated by many small islands. Japanese monkeys skulked around. 'Don't look directly at the monkeys, they do not like it' was the word of warning. So I avoided the gaze! After working on a nice blistered sunburn I descended the mountain started the trek back to Tokyo and the end of my trip.

This is a skeletal description of my trip to Japan-land. There is so much more for me to document and the 2000 pictures to some extent do the job! Japan I love you. Sayonara.

From My Mentor

Sharing a note and image from my mentor.

The picture taken in Carlow, Ireland.

'Someday you will be like this tree. Outstanding in your field!'

Irish-Californian

In the historic footsteps of my Irish ancestors I took the big leap onto the boat and came to 'Merica. Well, it turned out that you can fly now so I just did that. I get sea sick and there is always the risk of scurvy. Moving countries was a big decision for a small girl. I have lived my whole life in Ireland. I have been fortunate enough to have travelled extensively mostly as a result of work. But to live in a different country is a whole other kettle of fish. I was offered a job by my university in a collaborative position at a the University of California-Irvine (UCI). Initially I decided not to take up the offer but a number of personal issues, events and problems in my life lit the fire in me and I decided a change of atmosphere was about due. May 2008 was a blur. I got my affairs in order and June 9th I left Ireland. I am not a person that is accustomed to spending much time in my own company. Summer 2008 I had some family and friends come visit me in California. But mostly I spent a lot of time by myself. I made some really great friends towards the autumn. But I think the time alone initially allowed me to focus and reassess my life.

Moving countries has been a very rewarding experience for me. Comfort zone was where I resided in Ireland. The challenge of starting a new life was scary and exciting. It has moulded my character and allow me to open my mind to new experiences. Having some predisposing lung problems the dampness of Ireland led to numerous bouts of bronchitis and my health has improved dramatically due to the nice dry Californian heat. The quality of life is fabulous and every week brings a new adventure! My research at UCI is coming together into a neat project. My job allows me to travel and broaden my horizons. Who knows I may even venture forth to live in another far away land! Why not! I miss my beautiful family immensely and I should probably convey that more to those folks! Life moves on even in your absence and this has been a big lesson for me. I miss my friends also. But I would not swap the experience. It is all in the pursuit of the person I desire to be. It is all in the pursuit of MY Happiness.

What kind of Music Do You Like?

My music taste is VERY varied. Depends on my mood me thinks! I like Snow Patrol, Keane, Kings of Leon, The Smiths, Placebo (huge fan actually), The Frames, Sinead O'Connor, Radiohead, Pixies, The Cure, Mr D Bowie, Death cab etc. Love Massive attack, Basement Jaxx, Chemical Brothers, Daft Punk, Fischerspooner, Royskopp kinda choonz. Then of course the european (Dublin) chick in me loves trance/electro-pop/dance music. My biggest music love is filmscores, anything involving Berliner Philharmoniker, Hans Zimmer, Philip Glass etc. When I watch a movie I tend to tune into the soundtrack alot. At the moment I am really into the Seven Pounds score (Angelo Milli - very talented guy). I like Opera and classical music (Beethoven is my man!). So my taste is fairly opened and varied. My last purchase was Madame Butterfly. Then because of my Dad I guess I am of the Neil Young, Beatles, Van Morrison, Led Zepplin religion (or as my Mum affectionately refers to it as 'Your Dads druggie hippie music'...too funny). My Dad has great music taste though, I realized this and how cool he therefore was probably after I got out of my teenage/Take That/chart music stage. In the future I hope to share my love of fimscores in this blog and possibly have a crack at writing some reviews.

'Softly, deftly, music shall surround you ... Feel it, hear it, closing in around you ... Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night.'

A Ghrá Mo Chroí - The Love of My Heart

Love Love Love. A Ghrá Mo Chroí to an Irish girl. It is in your heart apparently. I always thought that was kind of odd. The function of the heart is to pump oxygenated blood around the body. As a medical research scientist I understand how the heart works, the mechanisms which allow for that cardiac re polarization to surge the heart and produce that pulse. What has that got to do with love? Then I fell in love. Every time I saw that person my heart palpitated, my chest tightened and my heart sank to my stomach from the weight of the ache. Love. Love. Love. Over powering, exciting..........summing up all those good and bad emotions. I found love, I lost love, I battled love, I blissfully swam in love, the love was all around me, and I felt it in my toes.

In honor of St Valentine’s Day I chose to believe in love again. I am rebuilding my heart and looking toward the future with fresh vision. I hope in the future it will step into my pathway. I don't need a man to cut off an ear for me just someone to hold my hand. Happy Valentine’s Day. Philanthropy of the heart is my new endeavor.

'Love is sharing your bodyparts or even sending them to your crush (Isn't that right Vincent?!)'

My Love Scribbles

Do you see me? because I see you

I see you in my thoughts and dreams
I see you in my tea as it swirls with the spoon
I see you when I don't want to see you
when I am too busy to see you, when I'm not trying to see you
Always I see you
It aches my heart not too see you
I close my eyes in the dark and see you
I open my eyes and you are there
I see you and you see me

My Love Scribbles

She is tired, so tired. She is alone, alone in her head

The sadness is too much for the heart to bear
She feels the cracks
One day it will split
Who will be the glue that seals those cracks?
She wants to live
She has so much love in her heart for you
The heart is a house filled with love
She has loved others with some doors open, others locked
Come to her house and she will give you the keys
Unlock all the doors
Let the air and light spill through the entire house

Image obtained from Robotic Color Design....become a Fan on facebook...RoboticColorDesign

My Love Scribbles

I have fallen
I am waiting for that hand to reach down and pull me up
A beautiful caring hand that wants and needs my hand
I can feel the hand taking mine
Who knew all along it was your hand
I will grasp you with both
This is how love feels

Educating Rita

A large chunk of my existance has been spent in education. I am the eternal student. I was the person that caused the nerd alert in school. My glasses were too big for my pea sized head and my braces were too big for my mouth. Somalian was the allocated nickname of choice due to my skinny bod. Kilts was the schools uniform of choice. Sweaty and scratchy in the summer, soaked up all the rain, refused to dry and smelled like wet doggie in the winter. My shoes were too big, thumbs stuck through regulation holes in the cuffs and secretly I wore a metallica 'kill 'em all' t-shirt under my shirt. I almost died in physical education once a week, hated that my locker was at floor level and thought that the passé composé was the devil.

I did love science. The science of living organisms or orgasms as is used at some point in every high school biology class. When I started secondary school (high school) I met skeletor. Nuns on the run never met her! Sister X whose skull you could kinda make out under particularly white/papery skin and wore luminous yellow turtle necks under her habit. Scared the be-jesus outta me I tell ya! Anyhow, she turned out to be a big pile of mushiness - if you did your homework that is. But she instilled in my pea head a love of that little biological unit called the cell. I kept up with the krebs cycle and the life cycle of the flukeworm and before I knew it I had a bachelors in science. Groovy! Then I hobbled across the cobblestones of Trinity College to gain a Masters in Molecular Medicine. Rock on! Then screw it, went to the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland and threw a PhD thesis together. Dance party!

I am now a Marie Curie Fellow working at the University of California Irvine. I run experiments on the beach and lecture from my surf board. Kary Mullis was a northern California boy, a molecular biologist, and nobel laureate. Dr Mullis designed a developed a technique called the Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR). It is one of the most commonly used laboratory techniques to date in both research and diagnostics. What does one do when one recieves the science equivalent of an Oscar? Well obviously you patent your technique, retire, become a beach bum and surf surf surf. Meet Kary Mullis, my idol (in the flesh in the picture below)! He grooved, rocked and danced his science career.

'A scientist in his laboratory is not a mere technician: he is also a child confronting natural phenomena that impress him as though they were fairy tales' - Marie Curie

The beginning is a good place to begin

The beginning. I arrived. I walked at some point - this would be about the time my shoe fetish kicked off. I talked at some point - my first word was 'disgusting'. I learned my abc and how to string those wordsaaahhh in to-a sentences. Then I started this blog. Oh wait there was the 30 or so years between my toddling tyke years and me creating this blog page today! So why become a bloggeroooa? A close friend recently started a blog and was kind enough to share her word adventuring. It seems like funky fun. I created the blog and I am now trying to figure out what to write about? I guess what do humans have to write about? Maybe just start by introducing myself and over the next while - depending on my attention span for this site/activity - share my experiences, interests or any other random dog poo that seeps from my brain cells through to ma finga's! At the moment I have a sore finger as I burnt it on the oven, but I'll soldier on.....sniff sniff....


I popped out October 1977 in London, England to a foxy 19 year old british lady and a 26 year old guinness dipped irish man. 1977 saw the completion of the World Trade Centre, the return of the Panama Canal to Panama by the USA, Saturday night fever hit the big screen, Elvis croack it and the Bee Gees ask how deep is your love. A few months later my parents decided to move to Ireland and go west. With no money they rented a summer chalet in the midst of winter. The chalet was so damp that woodlice lived on the walls. This is when my interest in entomology started or maybe it was something lacking in my diet? Accordying to my mothers embaressing childhood stories I used to pick the woodlice off the wall and munch munch munch on those juicy suckers. Every potential husband I take to meet my Mum gets the bug story. So that is how I turned into SuperWoodLouse Woman with the amazing powers of woodlice!

I had a great toddlerhood. In most pictures I look pretty buzzed and I am rocking some fairly nifty cord flares. When I was almost three Ian came along. My parents brought him home from hospital and I claimed him as my baby until he rained on my parade (literally he pointed his pencil in my direction and peed on me). Then he was dead to me and I threatened to leave the family crib regularly. There are some pictures that document my feelings around this time with him in his carrier chair and me sitting with the hood of my jacket hanging off my head. As we grew he became quite useful as it turns out. When I was a child I liked to play pretty intricate games and scenarios. My sister refers to hanging out with me as experiencing 'orgainized fun'. She may mock but I know where its at! Ian made a pretty good patient, student, customer, victim, prisoner, client etc. Pretty much I played the lead role and was in charge. As a consequence the wee hedgehog spent some saturday mornings curled up under his bed or in the closet. He got revenge when suddenly he was bigger and bolder than me. That story mainly revolves around great escapes, doc martin boots through doors and general GBH. He is a diamond though and wouldn't trade him for all the shoes in Ivanas wardrobe. In addition to that squirt my parents also had my 22 year old brother Vinny and 17 year old Adele. Great bunch of peeps, except for when someone wants to take charge of the remote control..........I claim first come first served as the oldest!