tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44467706074782646072024-03-18T21:02:42.005-07:00Yours Faithfully FionaLil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-77057595242576709432016-03-04T07:58:00.002-08:002016-03-04T08:13:33.790-08:00My Lovely Lady Lumps<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the award for the hardest working metabolism in the
history of mankind goes to………..........<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Anyone who knows me will be aware that I have quite possibly
one of the worst diets imaginable. I
don’t eat any vegetables or any fruit, in fact the closest thing to a vegetable I've ever
eaten is a French Fry! I cannot cook to save my life (apart from my beloved
beans on toast combo). All my meals are microwave
friendly and no doubt heavily processed. To add insult to injury I have a serious soft
drink addiction, at one point I was averaging a litre of Coke a day. And no, before you ask, I have not been
diagnosed with diabetes! How this is even possible remains a mystery to me too!
An even bigger mystery is the fact that despite the odds I have managed to
remain a size 10. I’ll be the first to
admit that it really isn't fair. There are some people that could gain weight just
by looking at what I eat! My metabolism really does deserve an award. But looks can certainly be deceiving. I may
appear to be a healthy enough individual to the average eye, however the
repercussions of my diet are beginning to take their toll.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So where do these bad eating habits of mine stem from?
Should I be blaming my parents for not enforcing a more balanced diet on me? Well
first of all, Mum & Dad are certainly not to blame here. I’m a stubborn adult, so you can only imagine
what I was like as a child. My parents repeatedly
threatened disciplinary action every time I neglected my greens. I still refused. I remember one instance where my dad told me that I wasn't allowed to leave the table until I had eaten everything on my
plate. I didn't bother pleading my case,
instead I saw it as a challenge. I sat
there with a smug look on my face, fully prepared to spend the rest of the
evening at the table. Eventually
frustration got the better of him and he threw the contents of my plate in the
bin. I had won this battle! It wouldn't be long before my parents gave up on even trying to
get me to eat healthier. I was a lost
cause, no one could save me but myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With regards to the side effects I touched on earlier, I
can’t help but notice several changes occurring to both the exterior and
interior of my body. The first notable change has to do with my energy-or lack
thereof. Once a competitive long
distance runner, now I can’t even run for a bus without gasping for air. I'm tired all the time, no matter how
much sleep I acquire. My love of movie
watching has been severely compromised by this constant state of fatigue. The girl that sat through Titanic fifteen
times at the cinema now struggles to stay awake for the entirety of any
film. Next thing you know I’ll be
falling asleep mid-sentence like Bart Simpson’s Grandpa. In a bid to explain my drowsy demeanour, my fitness
guru brother Matthew told me to think of my body as a car. In that respect I'm definitely a second hand,
1980 Toyota! If my body is a car, than the food I consume is no doubt the
fuel. With that in mind it’s no surprise
I feel so run-down all the time. I guess it’s a case of getting back what you
put in. If you feed your body with crap,
then you’re going to feel like crap & vice versa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My physical appearance is also beginning to change. For years people have been telling me that
one day all my unhealthy habits would come back to bite me in the ass. I hate to admit it but they were right, only
the ass they were referring to is slightly bigger these days. My once steel-like metabolism is showing
serious signs of strain. For the first
time in my 31 years of life I've noticed a bit of extra meat on my bones. I now have love handles and a pot belly-or
pouch as I prefer to call it. I know I'm not overweight as of yet, however this certainly isn't the body shape I've become accustomed to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So what now? Well I'm slightly ashamed of the fact that it
took a noticeable change in my appearance for me to finally show concern where
my health was concerned. My body has been sending me signs for years
that it was struggling, yet I ignored them and continued to indulge in a
lifestyle that can only be seen as detrimental. I'm always going to love greasy, fried food. I'm always going to crave all things chocolate. I don’t plan on denying myself
any of those things, life’s too short!
However it’s my attitude towards food I want to change, and not just to
lose the additional skin I seem to have acquired. I want to improve my overall health as
well. I'm sick of feeling sluggish. I'm sick of fighting the urge to nap at any
given opportunity. Food really is fuel
for our bodies, and it’s about time I stop attempting to run on empty, and by
empty I mean crap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yours Faithfully,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fiona</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTam_iZtymqwyiCVRMntLLs7shJGh7nTiAG9SrPkt546tpEvK3-3kDVdAX-WtA4EBCsyzn4suMTdNh1arNtf5H3PX5XaeHCEgj7HUjF6BniAjJWaY-naiU0UAK3Ycs07xJBD98_DDTE9ud/s1600/20160304_133157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTam_iZtymqwyiCVRMntLLs7shJGh7nTiAG9SrPkt546tpEvK3-3kDVdAX-WtA4EBCsyzn4suMTdNh1arNtf5H3PX5XaeHCEgj7HUjF6BniAjJWaY-naiU0UAK3Ycs07xJBD98_DDTE9ud/s320/20160304_133157.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behold........my first ever salad! One small step for mankind.....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-77948520375234841942014-01-06T14:59:00.001-08:002014-01-06T16:02:48.803-08:00Did Feminism Take a beating in 2013?<div dir="ltr">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>“One of
the greatest powers a woman has is the power of her sex. Few women realise the power of their
sexuality and those who do often abuse that power”-Rick Johnson</i></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I am woman hear me roar…….well in 2013 it was
more like I am woman watch me twerk! The feminist movement aimed to establish
equality, while also attempting to alter the perception that females were
nothing more than sexual objects. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve certainly come a long way, our place in society is no longer confined to the household.</span> Us working
women owe a lot to our predecessors. They fought hard for the rights we enjoy today. There's no denying the fact that progress has indeed been made. However I can’t help but feel we’ve never
really managed shake off the ‘eye candy’ stigma. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So why in
this day and age are women still being viewed as sexual objects? Most people will
point the finger at the media. I certainly agree. In my eyes the main culprits include the music
industry, men’s magazines, and of course the dreaded Page 3 phenomenon (a
feminist’s kryptonite). The music industry
is no doubt a source of major frustration for modern day feminists the world
over. It was one of the first outlets to
discover that sex really does sell. Early
music videos usually featured nothing more than a live performance. However when sex hit the main stream, it all
changed. Music videos became less of a
visual expression of an artist’s work, and more like a vehicle for pushing sales. So how can you ensure people will watch your
video? The formula is simple, just
include an array of beautiful, scantily clad women doing some seriously sexy
moves. Men will no doubt want to watch
them, while girls will aspire to look like them. My issue here is not only the obvious exploitation
of the female race, but also the lack of originality. If I had a euro for every
music video I’ve seen containing a girl in a bikini-I’d be able to buy my own
record label. It’s beyond boring at this
stage! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The majority
of record companies are owned by men, so it’s easy to blame them for this surge in
exploitation. But what about the female
artists that are choosing to market themselves in a sexual manner? Surely they
have to be held accountable too. It's easy to point the finger at the big bad record
executive, and assume he’s the one putting pressure on these girls to bare skin. However I don’t think that's entirely fair.
Jive records were eager to keep Britney Spears as pure as possible. They even went as far as to suggest she proclaim
her virginity. In her early days, she
was the epitome of the squeaky clean teen idol.
Mother’s would happily buy their daughters Britney records, after all
she was such a good role model. However
despite their best efforts, Jive couldn’t stop Britney from growing up. She was discovering her sexuality, and it
started to alter her image. The more famous she became the more power she
exuded. If Jive wanted to hold onto
their biggest selling artist, they’d have to step back and allow her to take
control, even if it meant alienating their sacred teen fan base.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast forward
to 2013 and we’re seeing a similar scenario play out with Miley Cyrus. Like
Britney, she was a former Disney darling who captured the imagination of young
girls everywhere. However last year her she showed us a completely different side to her.
Miley was no longer content to play the part of the pristine pop star. Her image underwent a major overall,
everything was stripped down……literally. But she wasn’t the only one to turn
up the skank factor . It seemed like last year the women of pop were embroiled
in a battle, each one desperate to out-tramp the other. We saw Rihanna take on
the role of a G-string wearing stripper in her video for Pour It Up. She even
managed to simulate sex with a chair! When you think about it Britney’s ab
baring antics in early 2000 were nothing compared to what we’re seeing now. However Miss Spears recently attempted to
regain her raunchy crown by depicting BDSM in the video for her latest single
Work Bitch. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On one hand
I’m furious that these pop stars are providing fuel to the fire. How are we ever going to be taken seriously
if women are now exploiting themselves?
But then another part of me finds it empowering to see women taking
control of their own sexuality. I have to admit Rihanna does look pretty bad-ass
sitting on that throne-smoking a cigar. I like that we’ve also taken ownership of the
word bitch, it’s fast becoming a term of endearment amongst females. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m
seriously conflicted when it comes to this issue. Is it such a bad thing to want to be sexy?
Does it mean you’re betraying the concept of feminism? The female form is a work of art, can we
blame women for wanting to celebrate it? I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a fine line between being sexy and being downright tacky. There’s a
lot to be said for leaving something to the imagination. For me it boils down to intentions. I have no problem with any woman expressing
their sexuality. But if you’re letting
it all hang out as a means of seeking attention and or shocking people, I’m
less forgiving. To me that reeks of desperation. I also find it incredibly lazy and unimaginative. Hopefully 2014 will bring us something a
little more original! After all any gal can take her clothes off!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yours Faithfully</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Fiona </span></div>
</div>
Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-29557532658730730192013-12-03T08:09:00.001-08:002013-12-03T09:25:41.124-08:00Are We the Vainest Generation of Them All?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">It’s Saturday night, yours truly is in her
favourite Dublin night club having a great time. The combination of vodka and Fiona-friendly music
certainly has me in the zone. I’m dancing
away without a care in the world, oblivious to anyone around me but my friends. I decide a trip to the ladies is in order,
however upon arrival my state of blissful ignorance is brought to a grinding
holt. I look around to find my fellow
females pouting & posing, basking in their reflections. Some are even taking iPhone ‘selfies’ in the
bathroom mirror. Like any Facebook user
my homepage is usually flooded with selfies, so it’s certainly not a foreign
concept to me. However I assumed these DIY portraits were taken in the privacy
of one’s own home, usually the bedroom. I was shocked to see women doing this openly,
in full view of everyone inhabiting the bathroom. More shocking to me was the
fact that they did it without even a hint of embarrassment or shame. Then it hit me, no one is batting an eye lid
because this is the new norm. It’s no
longer enough to be secretly satisfied with the reflection that greets us, we
now need the whole world to see just how good we look. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> So were these young ladies smiling in these selfies?
Of course not, nobody smiles anymore, and if they do it’s certainly not a
genuine one. A true selfie expert knows how to execute the perfect smile, one
that ensures his or her features look as flattering as possible. The eyes are
widened (referred to these days as smising), while the cheeks are gently sucked
in, giving the illusion of high cheekbones.
If smiling isn’t for you then don’t fret- the 'Duckface' is a perfectly acceptable
form of selfie expression. Just follow the aforementioned eye and cheek
technique, but this time press your lips together like you are blowing a
bubble. And don’t worry if you don’t
like what you see, you can just delete it and go again. Digital film has certainly changed the way in
which we capture our ‘moments’ these days. Spare a thought for the poor buggers in the
past that had to wait until their pictures were physically developed by a third
party before they could decide if they were sexy or not. Back then even if you were happy with your
images, the amount of people you could show them to was limited. Thankfully the birth of social media has
rectified this injustice. Now everyone
and their dog can see just how hot we looked last night. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Women are not the only culprits when it
comes to our generation’s obsession with self-image. Previously it was assumed that a man could simply
pop on a pair of jeans and a top, and head off on his merry way. Not anymore.
These days expectations regarding the male appearance have definitely
increased. We are living amidst the
Geordie Shore generation. A man seeking
to attract the attention of a decent lady should meet certain
requirements. He must have a tan, a well-defined
set of abs, and of course the biceps to go with them. I’m sure there has been a steady rise in the
amount of men signing up for gym memberships the world over. I’ve witnessed first-hand
this new breed of man in training. They tend to ignore all cardio equipment and
head straight for the weights, which just so happen to be situated in front of
the mirror. Their intentions clearly
have less to do with general fitness and more to do with looking good naked.
But can we blame them? These days they’re under just as much pressure to look
good as we are. It’s stiff competition out
there (no pun intended). </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Once you’ve put in all that hard work in the
gym, you’re going to want to show off the results right? Of course, and why
shouldn’t you. Behold the male version
of the selfie: usually involving a tight fitted top with a low V-neck to give
those pecks the recognition they deserve.
Some men take it even further, posing half-naked ensuring those chiselled
abs are on full display. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> So who’s to blame for this rise vanity? Is it
reality TV shows like Jersey and Geordie Shore? Or are they simply highlighting
a pattern of behaviour that already existed. Perhaps we can look to technology
and social media. Smart phones have certainly
made the process of taking pictures easier than ever. We no longer have to lug around a bulky camera
on our nights out. Plus we can download
certain apps to make our pictures look more glamorous and professional. Social
media then allows us to instantly share these works of art to hundreds of our ‘friends’. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Maybe it’s not vanity at all. As human beings we all have insecurities that
are perfectly natural. These insecurities
are no doubt heightened by our society’s infatuation with beauty. Some of us may crave reassurance, and
therefore post these selfies in the hopes that people will tell us what we <u>need</u>
to hear. Whatever the cause it seems a
shame to me that people focus so much of their energy on what they look like, especially
when they’re on a night out. You’re so supposed
to be having fun, enjoying the moment.
At the end of the day we’re all going to be old, saggy, and grey one
day. What would you prefer to look back at, perfectly constructed images or
genuine fun-filled memories? I know my answer.
</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Yours
Faithfully</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Fiona</span></span></span></div>
Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-17841947745311901822013-04-02T02:43:00.002-07:002016-03-10T02:26:34.744-08:00Be Aware: Negative Aliens Everywhere!!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m 29 this month. There I said it! Still
can’t actually believe that little Fiona Cooney is almost 30! Where the heck
have the last 8 years gone? I always insist that despite getting older in the
numerical sense, I still feel exactly the same as I did back when I entered the
land of the twenty-somethings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
genuinely believed this…..until now. The truth is I have changed. I’d like to
say that these changes are all positive, thus shaping me into the well rounded woman
I am today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that would be a lie, and
us mature adults should never tell porky pies!! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that said, I definitely see a confidence
and strength in myself that was absent in my teens and early 20’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However whilst I’ve gained in the inner strength
department, I seem to have suffered a significant loss in the area of optimism
and positivity. This begs the question, as we get older and supposedly wiser-is
it inevitable that our view of the world will take on a more cynical approach?
Was our previous optimism really such naivety in disguise?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to take
pride in the fact that I was no longer the over-friendly, naive little girl of
yesteryear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The old me was the kind of
girl you could take advantage of and disrespect without fear of consequence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fiona never stood up for herself and more
often than not suffered in silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fast
forward nearly a decade and the girl you see today is a far cry from her
predecessor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I still consider
myself the fun-loving friendly sort-my approach to disrespect, whether it be to
me or to those around me, is a little different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For better or worse I no longer have the ability to silence my inner
vigilante. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm definitely proud of how
far I've come, and often ridicule the old Fiona.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a weak, pathetic version of me, one
that I was happy to see the back of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
felt like I was starring in my own version of Muriel’s Wedding. I was the new
and improved Mariel and was dammed if I’d let the old one creep back in. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s only lately that I’ve started to change
the way I view the previous version of Fiona.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes she was a little naive and perhaps too soft at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But was she really that bad? Does she actually
deserve the level of shame I associate with her?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one thing she exuded a level of
positivity that the new me can only envy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember a past employer of mine once asking if I was on drugs because
I was happy all the time! So how do I get her back? I know youth and optimism go hand in hand, so I shouldn’t expect to have
the same outlook as I did when I was younger. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at the same time I don’t want to go on
feeling like this either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like a
negative little alien life form has taken over my body- altering my state of
mind at a slow rate so as not to raise suspicion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Change can be a subtle little bugger, it’s
only when you compare your current behaviour to that of your past that you
realise just how much you’ve changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These days, instead
of seeing the best in people I instantly assume the worst. To be fair it’s hard
not to when day after day you encounter ignorant, obnoxious human beings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find today’s youth particularly disturbing.
They seem to lack a certain level of restraint and respect. It’s as if nothing
scares them, not their elders, not even the authorities. With that said, I’ve
also come across some genuinely lovely, well-mannered youngsters. I guess
that’s the key, ignore the bad, focus on the good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By paying attention to everything that’s
wrong with the world around you, it’s easy to forget how much good there
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some days I would start work feeling
great, however all it would take was one rude customer to completely alter my
mind set. It didn’t matter that the majority of people I encountered that day were
lovely and appreciative, all I could think of was that one vile person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a sense I allowed their negativity to rub
off onto me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So how do I stop this
happening in the future? Perhaps it would help if I thought of these nasty
little specimens as ‘negative aliens’ hell bent on transforming me into one of
them, like something out of ‘The Body Snatchers’. I could use my invisible
shield of positivity to fight them off, maintaining my optimistic outlook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kill them with kindness so to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s definitely worth a try and a lot cheaper
than mind altering substances. So the next time you find yourself being drawn
into negativity, remember the aliens can’t get you if you don’t let them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bring forth your shield of positivity and
fight for right to remain an eternal optimist!!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yours Faithfully</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fiona </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-1762085187065333562011-11-20T19:19:00.000-08:002011-11-21T15:04:03.567-08:00To Facebook Or Not To Facebook???.....That Is The Question!<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> My Facebook friends may have noticed that the word aspire features in my job description. According to the dictionary to aspire to something is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to seek to attain or accomplish a particular goal</i>. The Fiona Cooney definition of this word ……..sit on your ass and wait for everything you’ve ever wanted to fall from the sky into your lap. I’ve been aspiring for many years now and needless to say it hasn’t led to much. You might ask why a 27yr old qualified journalist has yet to make a mark on the industry. The answer I give to that question has varied throughout the years. At first I was ‘taking a year out’ after graduation. Four years of studying had taken its toll, I needed a break (or so I kept telling myself). My plan was to work full-time for a year, save a little money, then put operation Cooney Career into full swing. Deep down I knew that I was really just doing what I do best….procrastinating. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens">The gap year argument wore a little thin after the first year. It was time to come up with a new reason for not pursuing a career. Luckily for me Ireland found itself in the midst of a recession, the old ‘lucky just to have a job’ excuse became my best friend. My parents were told repeatedly that there were simply no jobs available in the journalism field. Truth is I never bothered to look….sorry mum and dad! I have no doubt I’m not the only one to fall into the retail trap. A steady guaranteed wage is hard to walk away from, not to mention the fact that the recession and cuts to the unemployment benefit have turned virtually any job into a keepsake. However the state of the economy was hardly the real reason I failed to ‘spread my wings’ so to speak. A combination of laziness and the fear of failure were the real forces at work here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> Two more years past and like its predecessor –the good old recession excuse lost its mojo. It was now time to work another angle. I thought back to the last time I felt like I was actually furthering my career and putting my creative forces to work. I realised it was back in my college days. As Oprah would say-I had a ‘light bulb moment’. I decided to go back to the place where the foundations of my promising future had been laid….college. What better way to dodge the look of disappointment on the faces of those who dare to ask ‘what are you doing with yourself these days’? I could now tell people I was in fact studying-perfecting my craft in preparation for my assault on the media industry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> Going back to college proved to be more than just a valid diversion on the road to career success. It actually served as a system reboot. That urge to create came creeping back and as cheesy as it may sound for the first time in years I felt like myself again. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed or the most sensible sister around, but I do pride myself on having a decent ounce of good old creativity. My childhood memories are filled with images of yours truly putting on concerts and acting out scenes from my favourite movies (this probably explains the delusion that a Hollywood career awaited me). The life of a retail assistant had led me to forget or perhaps neglect the things that had once brought me so much satisfaction. I forgot how much I loved the process of writing. For me there is no greater feeling that putting my fingers on the keyboard and just letting rip (by letting rip I am not referring to the passing of gas-instead the process of releasing my inner thoughts and attempting to string them into sentences that both make sense and provoke some amount of interest). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> It was around this time that I decided to do something that I hadn’t done in years….take a risk. In the past any of my written work had only been seen by a teacher-with the exception of the odd time when I allowed a family member to glance over an article or two. For me, writing has always been a very personal act, one that I was hesitant to make public. I tend to pour my heart into whatever I write with little interest in censorship. For that reason the idea of putting it out there left me feeling exposed, laid bare if you like. However with the encouragement of my amazing sister I decided to challenge those fears and start a blog. Cue the birth of ‘Yours Faithfully Fiona’. The response to my first post helped put to rest any previous reservations. To hear that people liked my work meant the world to me. My purpose on this planet soon became very clear. My name is Fiona Cooney and I was born to write!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens"> However now I find myself back in familiar territory. College is well and truely over and there is nothing standing in the way between me and the life I crave. That’s what scares me the most. I have nothing to hide behind, if I’m not succeeding or reaching my full potential it’s no one’s fault but mine. Believe it or not I even tried blaming Facebook for my lack of achievement. The temptation to spend time in other people’s worlds instead of my own was proving too powerful. I realised I had not written in a very long time and decided Facebook was the culprit. This led me to conduct a little experiment over the past weekend. I temporarily deactivated my account thus removing the temptation. So did my hypothesis ring true? By removing Facebook from my life did I manage to allocate more time to my budding writing career? I’m guessing you already know the answer to that. However it did lead me to write this blog so I guess on some level it worked. But Facebook or no Facebook, recession or no recession there will always be an excuse for me to fall back on. I read a brilliant quote recently that really hit home, it said ‘<i>what will be is up to me</i>’. I couldn’t agree more, so with that in mind I Fiona Cooney vow to have some of my work published within the next six months so help me god. And if I don’t feel free to give me that look of disappointment, and whatever you do don’t let make an excuse, we both know it’ll be nothing but bullshit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens">Yours Faithfully </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="ssens">Fiona</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-5996976287117549572011-08-31T18:26:00.000-07:002011-09-01T05:49:08.035-07:00Family Ties The arrival of my sister and her son to Ireland last month resulted in possibly the best three weeks I’ve had in years. The Cooney’s were under the one roof again for the first time in five years. This was some feet-considering my brother Matt now resides in Cork, my sister Sharon remains in Perth, Western Australia and then we have little old me living here in Dublin. I think back to the time when we all called Oz our home, Mum and Dad living blissfully as man and wife, Matt and I winding each other up-correction me winding Matt up, whilst Sharon worked long days as a teacher and kept us amused with stories of her little subject’s antics. Although I enjoyed my own space and often retired to my bedroom to escape the madness, I secretly loved our full house especially when we all piled into the living room to watch shows like Aussie Big Brother or dad’s favourite Survivor. We were certainly a reality TV loving family. It might sound weird to say but shows like Big Brother and Survivor actually brought us closer as a family. We would have intense discussions/debates about who we thought was genuine and who had to go. I remember wishing we could temporarily vote Mum out of the house, as she had a tendency to talk non-stop during TV time. <br />
<br />
No one took these shows more seriously than my dad! I remember one instance when he brought a pen and paper into the living room and proceeded to tally the nominations made by the Big Brother housemates, that way he would know who was up for eviction before it was officially announced. Another of Dad’s favourite shows was The Osbournes. One of my most cringe worthy memories takes me back to age 17, Dad and I were glued to the telly watching Ozzy and his crazy family. Next thing out of nowhere Kelly begins to talk about her special 'lady area' and reveals that her sister Amy has made an appointment for her with the all important ‘vagina doctor’ and she doesn‘t want to go. Ozzy’s advice was to insist Kelly tell the ‘vagina doctor’ to fuck off!! Hearing the <b>v</b> word in my dad’s presence was nothing short of a nightmare scenario. I didn’t know where to put my head, luckily Dad was bent over in hysterics and I made a dash for the kitchen insisting I needed a drink!! <br />
<br />
Fast forward ten years and I would give anything to have my family back together, sitting around the TV. Perhaps I would have cherished those days a little more had I known they were numbered. We Cooney’s found ourselves back together last month, although our encounter was far too brief for my liking. It’s funny how time can creep by and yet somethings never change. Matt and I fell back into our slapstick mocking behaviour, Mum’s never ending rants picked up where they left off, and Sharon resumed her role as the sensible/normal one (that is until you get a glass of wine into her). The obvious thing that had changed unfortunately was the relationship between Mum and Dad. A big fat elephant had now entered our living room and there was an undeniable tension lying below the surface. Like a volcano it could errupt at anytime. Still I had to appreciate the fact that we were all back together and Jeremy Kyle was nowhere in sight! <br />
<br />
The demise of Mr and Mrs Cooney wasn’t the only change within the family. <br />
Something was notably different between us siblings too. Thankfully this change was a positive one. It became clear during Sharon’s stay that the Cooney kids were now closer than ever. Perhaps being so far apart all these years had resulted in a greater appreciation for each other’s company. Instead of being jealous and resenting my sister, these days I spend our encounters trying to get her to realise just how fantastic she is and how much I admire her strength both physical and mental. Not to mention the fact that she is without doubt the greatest mother I have ever seen! Then we have ‘golden balls’ himself Matthew Cooney. There was a time when I used to beg Matt to leave me alone, however these days the roles have definitely been reversed. I’m the one itching to spend as much time with him as possible, something I‘m sure he finds slightly annoying. His gentle nature and quiet confidence makes me very proud to be known around Nenagh town simply as Matt’s sister.<br />
<br />
Throughout life we tend to surround ourselves with people we both like and respect, otherwise known as our friends. We can pick and choose our friends however when it comes to the family we’re born into, well that‘s something we have no say in. As cheesy as it may sound, if I did have a choice, I‘d still pick the life of a Cooney everytime! I feel privileged to call my brother and sister my friends and have seen enough episodes of Jeremy Kyle to know that this is not the case in every family. Shaz and Matt I salute you! May life see us back together again sooner rather than later.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGqsEjJa50GzE_sLw2Xu_kplux96N72gRcyc2VM1n_N1l2cBjfjgq2wOYQTgp9kAcULoUAwt6of-chAK4pQzNz7bA8VChJCI6t1BAadOPX1FrviqQRk44tuBTdW_-erDRonNrdH4xRvDB/s1600/blog+pic1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGqsEjJa50GzE_sLw2Xu_kplux96N72gRcyc2VM1n_N1l2cBjfjgq2wOYQTgp9kAcULoUAwt6of-chAK4pQzNz7bA8VChJCI6t1BAadOPX1FrviqQRk44tuBTdW_-erDRonNrdH4xRvDB/s320/blog+pic1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Yours Faithfully<br />
Fiona<br />
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Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-79272548985399883622011-06-12T08:11:00.000-07:002011-06-18T07:23:57.900-07:00Men Are From Mars??? Here's My Theory......... After several years on the ‘dating scene’ I have come to both love and loath the male species in almost equal measure. I don’t regret any of my past XY encounters (well maybe one or two), however I certainly wish I knew back then what I have come to know now. But there lies the beauty of hindsight. I could get all corny and say those experiences have made me who I am today, but I prefer to see them as enabling me to finally weed out the bullshit and see what’s really there. I’m not claiming to be an expert on men-or some wannabe Carrie Bradshaw. However I have noticed an undeniable pattern which has lead me to believe that most men fit into one of several categories. I thought it was about time I put this knowledge to good use, as many of my female friends are younger than me. It is with their emotional and psychological well being in mind that I write this. <br />
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The first species of man I would like to address is that of <i><b>Girlfriend Guy</b></i>. <i><b>Girlfriend Guy</b></i> is the type of male who may literally fall in love with his own dinner. They are usually desperate for a romantic connection of any type, and will more than likely tell you they love you by the end of the first date. Thankfully for us they are quite easy to spot, and I advice you stay clear unless you are of course <i><b>Boyfriend Girl</b></i> but that’s a whole other article. The interesting thing about <i><b>Girlfriend Guy</b></i> is that more often than not he has no reason to be so desperate. They tend to be nice looking lads with normal social skills, the root of their desire to be ‘coupled up’ remains a mystery to me. <br />
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We now move on to <i><b>The Mumma’s Boy</b></i>. This species is a little more complex, as it usually takes time to identify it. You might not realise you are in the company of a <i><b>Mumma’s Boy</b></i> until months down the line. With this breed of man you will discover that the main woman in his life- the mother has likely been the one to make all major decisions for him. The danger with this lies in the fact that he has been unable to develop the initiative to think for himself, particularly when it comes to women. A <i><b>Mumma’s Boy </b></i>will happily take the back seat and allow you to make all the decisions in the relationship. Subconsciously he is replicating the relationship he has with mummy dearest. His lack of initiative also means that you will literally have to spell it out for him: It hurts my feelings when you don’t call or text me!!!!! A true <i><b>Mumma's Boy</b></i> has no intention of leaving the nest, and why would he when mother has made it so comfortable for him! So you might want to think twice before suggesting you move in together. Another factor to consider is that no matter what you will always play second fiddle to his mother, which is fine just as long as you like her and more importantly she likes you! <br />
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The next species we will examine is <i><b>The Metro-sexual</b></i>. I believe <i><b>Metro-sexual Men</b></i> fall into two categories <u>Type A</u> and <u>Type B.</u><br />
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<u>Type A</u>: A guy who has a genuine interest in fashion and takes pride in his appearance. Let’s face it ladies there’s nothing wrong with that. When deciding whether or not we are attracted to a man, many women start from the bottom and work their way up. It doesn’t matter how great your body and face are-if we hate your shoes its all over red rover! <br />
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<u>Type B</u>: This is the type of Metro-sexual I advise you ignore. They tend to be completely image obsessed, and will most likely take longer than you to get ready. You also run the risk of having him steal you sacred hair straightener. A <u>Type B</u> <b><i>Metro-sexual</i></b> can be identified usually by the over-presence of hair product, cologne, and of course the turned up collar. Men of the world take note: the only man to rock the turned up collar was The King himself Elvis!!!!!<br />
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We have now come to what I believe to be the deadliest of all male species….<i><u>.</u><b>The Pretty Boy Player</b></i>. These boys were blessed with natural god given looks. They achieve sexy with little or no effort, and can usually make even the most sensible woman weak at the knees. <i><b>The Pretty Boy Player</b></i> has never really had to work to gain a woman’s attention and or affection and there lies the problem, they’re lazy bastards!! On a night out he will usually position himself somewhere that allows him to be noticed-for instance the bar. He will then wait for the women to come to him-like flies to shit, and believe me they will! He has come to believe that he can get anyone he wants, and therefore you are disposable to him-at least until someone prettier comes along. The problem with falling for this specimen is that you will end up doing all the work. His dreamy eyes and sexy smile will interfere with your brain waves and in no time you will find yourself becoming obsessed with this creature. The majority of us women love a challenge, so the more aloof and uninterested he appears, the more we will want him. It is one of the great mysteries of life! We complain that all men are bastards and yet we have no interest in the ones that aren’t. With that in mind we must now move to my final specimen ….<i><b>The Genuine Guy</b></i>. <br />
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<i><b>The Genuine Guy</b></i> is considered by many to be the most rare species of man. However I disagree with this. In my view <i><b>Genuine Guys</b></i> are everywhere, they just tend to get over shadowed by the other species we have examined. Like their title suggests, they are genuine down to earth fellas. They are often quietly confident and self assured-this allows them to avoid playing mind games. With a <i><b>Genuine Guy </b></i>what you see is what you get, and you will always know where you stand with them. Unfortunately many women find this prospect boring and safe, they crave the danger and complexity of the above species. However <i><b>Genuine Guys</b></i> of the world fear not-in time us women grow tired of the antics dished out by the other breeds, we will come to our senses and learn to appreciate you! Just be patient!!!<br />
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<b>Please be aware that some men fall into several of the above categories.</b><br />
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Yours Faithfully<br />
FionaLil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-51572201498746879362011-04-17T18:59:00.000-07:002011-04-17T19:34:54.921-07:00Mirror Mirror On The Wall<span data-jsid="text"> As I sit here with one week to go before my 27th Birthday, I can’t help but think about just how far I’ve come in the last ten years. The 17yr old Fiona Cooney was a very different person to the one you see today. She had a mouth full of braces, hair so long it would make any traveller girl jealous, and let’s not forget a face full of caked on make up that was always a shade or four too dark. As you can imagine I was quite the vision! The braces were unavoidable, the hair and make up however were weapons I deliberately chose in an effort to shield the world of what I believed to be one of the ugliest faces imaginable!! Think ‘Cousin It’ and then you can get some idea of how I wore my lovely locks back in the day. The purpose of my hair was to cover up as much of my face as possible-paying particular attention to the hideous pointy thing sticking out of my face-otherwise known as my nose. You couldn’t have paid me back then to tie my hair up. During one of my earlier jobs, my manger insisted I wear it up in a pony tail-I remember this almost sent me into cardiac arrest. The idea of having my face fully exposed terrified me, to the point where I contemplated leaving the job. My manger wasn’t the only one who had a problem with my ode to Cousin It look. My mum and I fought constantly as she begged me to let my hair off my face. <br />
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The second tool I used in my mission to disguise the ugly truth of my appearance, was god’s gift to insecure women the world over-makeup! Inches of makeup were applied to my face on a daily basis in an attempt to mask my pale, freckly skin tone. I remember a boy in my class asking me if I had fallen into a puddle of makeup!! The funny thing is I wasn’t always like that. For the majority of my childhood I was a take no prisoners tom boy with one mission: make it to the Olympics as a gymnast! I couldn’t have cared less about what I looked like! I think this all changed once I hit High School. All of a sudden boys stopped being impressed with the fact that I could beat the majority of them in an arm wrestle-or that I could do 10 back flips in a row. Instead they turned their attention to the girls with the increasing bust lines and shapely figures. I did not fit into this category, infact there were lamp posts in my school with more curves than me! I always blamed the dam gymnastics for my lack of development!! <br />
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The point where my insecurity turned into obsession was around age 15. The mirror and I began an unhealthy rollercoaster of a relationship. I could spend hours looking at my reflection- picking out my flaws and trying to come up with ways I could hide them. There were days when the person staring back at me was so hideous that I couldn’t face leaving the house. I remember one instance when I had agreed to go with my friends to a disco, however I backed out of it at the last minute as I believed I was too ugly to go. I now know that what I was going through back then was a condition referred to as Body Dimorphic Disorder (BDD). BDD works in a similar way to Anorexia. It is a disease of the mind and results in people seeing a distorted vision of themselves when they look in the mirror. A person with Anorexia sees themselves as fat, even though the rest of us see a skeletal frame. People with BDD see nothing but ugly, even though to the outside word they make look completely normal if not attractive. For years I allowed this disease to rob me off a normal life. It affected my relationship with my family and my friends, as they struggled to understand why I was so hard on myself. It also resulted in me shying away from the opposite sex, I mean how can you accept that somebody wants to be with you when your convinced you’re hideous! </span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"> Luckily for me I had a breakthrough. Moving to Dublin and taking a job at a local cinema changed my life. In the past I had all but avoided male interaction for fear of being made fun of, however this particular job forced me to work alongside guys. It soon became apparent that the way I looked made no difference to them. As cheesy as it may sound they took the time to get to know me for me. Slowly but surely my guard began to drop, allowing my inner freak to break free! These days some of my most treasured friends are guys, which is a testament to the progress I’ve made.<br />
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Although I will never be able to fully rid myself of my previous BDD driven tendencies, I’ve certainly come along way. My relationship with the mirror-like any real relationship has its ups and downs. Some days I like what I see and some days I don’t. However I am so bloody happy that I woke up and finally realised life is too short to let fear or insecurity hold you captive. After all the greatest asset a person can have is their personality. In the words of the great Lady GaGa "I'm a free bitch baby"!<br />
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Yours Faithfully<br />
Fiona<br />
</span>Lil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-66772726762983799832011-03-19T19:36:00.000-07:002011-03-20T06:33:20.146-07:00Dear Elaine Today in work a customer wanted me to put aside a dress for her, she asked me to hold it under the name of Elaine. You instantly came into my mind. It dawned on me that I have not thought of or mentioned you in quite awhile, immediately a strong sense of guilt came over me. I worried that you must assume you are forgotten, perhaps as if you were never here. With that in mind I decided to write you this letter in the hope that somehow you will hear my words and know that you are definately not forgotten!<br />
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I often wonder how different things would have been if you had gotten to stay with us. What would you make of me? When Sharon and I were literally tearing each other's hair out would you have intervened? If so who's side would you have taken? I used to imagine that you and I would have had this unspoken bond, and that you'd have always stuck up for me anytime Shaz and I went to battle. I never took into consideration the fact that Shaz and you would have had five years together by the time I came along. Therefore your loyalty was bound to lie with her. Perhaps I would have thought twice about going up against my two older sisters! I'm sure Sharon's body would have had alot less scratches on it if you were there to referee!<br />
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How would Daddy Cooney have coped living in a house with four women? Somehow I think he would have done just fine! Dad has always doted on his lil ladies, and from what I've heard you had him wrapped around your little finger from day one! I'm told the admiration was more than mutual. Apparently you used to jump up in your cot the second you heard Dad come to your door in the morning. You also sat by the front door of our lil blue and white Nenagh house, anticipating his return from work in the evening. I remember Mum telling me that she could barely get a look in-you were daddy's little sweetheart and that was that!! The fact that to this day he finds it difficult to speak about you is testimate to the impact you had on him. Mum and Dad weren't even in their twenties when they lost you. I try to imagine what that must have been like for them, but it's too painful. I think back to when I was nineteen and I know with full certainty that such an experience would have destroyed me. However they had no choice but to be strong, Sharon still needed them, therefore falling apart was not an option. It only dawned on me that it must have been just as hard for you. It certainly wasn't your choice to leave such a loving set of parents and therefore your bravery astounds me just as much as theirs does. <br />
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I wish I had gotten to meet you, but yet somehow I feel like I have. Anytime something good happens in my life, I secretly believe you were behind it. I see all the good that is in our brother Matthew and I have no question that you have something to do with it. I hope wherever you are you are happy and that you look down on us-your crazy fellow Cooney's from time to time and have a little chuckle. The one thing I ask is that you never doubt your place in our family, you are my big big sister Elaine and nothing can take that away from us!<br />
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Yours Faithfully<br />
FionaLil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-47127363109278164522011-03-01T18:30:00.000-08:002011-03-21T13:00:02.554-07:00I'll Do It Later!!!! First of all let me start by stating that I am infact the world's laziest blogger!! Have been meaning to add to my last entry for weeks now, but somehow I kept putting it off-just like I do with most other things in life!! I should really get the words 'I'll do it later' tattooed on my body! With this in mind boys & girls today we are going to discuss procrastination and why it affects some people more than others!! My dad will happily tell you that Fiona Cooney will find a way to be late for anything and everything. He often reminds me of how anytime we were going somewhere he and the rest of the family would be left waiting in the car while I ran around the house like a mad woman screaming "I'm almost ready", only to emerge <u>several </u>minutes later with my shoes in hand, pants still unbuttoned etc. "Why do you always leave it to the last minute to get ready?" he would ask. <br />
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My habbit for puttings things off was not just limited to getting ready, I managed to delay many other aspects of my life as well. None more so than when it came to anything academic. Assignments that were meant to be done over the weekend were always left to late Sunday/crack of dawn Monday morning. I even managed to put off studying for my final Secondary School exams until the morning I was due to sit them. I justified this behaviour by telling myself that I was better off waiting till the last minute-that way all the information would be fresh in my brain. Needless to say my results exposed several flaws in this method of study!!! I have recently discovered that there is in fact a title for this type of behaviour: "<a href="http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Student_syndrome"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Student Syndrome</span></a>" refers to the phenomenon where a student will only begin to fully apply themselves to a task immediately before a deadline. If only I had known this information earlier-would certainly have given more weight to my arguments with the parentals. "Fiona why didn't you do your assignment earlier?" "It's not my fault mum- I have Student Syndrome!"<br />
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Student Syndrome aside I still have to wonder why I do this to myself?? Perhaps I subconsciously love the thrill of the last minute panic? Unlikely. I dread any feelings of anxiety or worry, so therefore it would make no sense for me to intentionally bring them on. I remember Dr.Phill telling a woman with similar habits to my own that she was an attention seeker who got off on the thought of people waiting for her. I was disgusted with this diganoses- and felt that Dr Phill was making a personal attack on my character! However it did get me questioning my behaviour for at least a moment or two. But thankfully I can safely say the good doctor's diganoses does not ring true in my case.<br />
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There was a brief period right after high school when I thought my urge to procrastinate was fading . Before moving to Ireland I spent six months at Edith Cowan University (how I got into uni with results like mine is possibly the greatest miracle I've ever witnessed). For the first time in years I was studying something I actually cared about. Instead of putting off my assignments- I enjoyed spending time working on them, ensuring they were more than just a rushed last minute job. I even managed to do a little thing called 'research', something I had avoided for the majority of my previous academic life!! I began to console myself with the notion that I only put things off when I'm not passionate about them. However once the novelty of university life wore off, my desire to delay came crawling back. For three years I battled the voice inside my head that constantly told me to 'do it later', and somehow managed to achieve the qualifaction I needed. <br />
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After several years of absence from the college scene, I decided to once again hit the books last year. However it didn't take long for the dreaded Student Syndrome to rear its ugly head again. Years of an 'assignment free' existence had caused me to forget that I am infact the world's biggest procrastinator! Case in point this blog, which I am writting instead of an overdue assisgnment!! Will I ever rid myself of the urge to procrastinate?? Probaly not, nor will I ever understand why I do it. But one thing I do know is that I will get there eventually, it just might take me a little longer than others! Better late than never I say!<br />
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Yours Faithfully <br />
FionaLil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4446770607478264607.post-69525376722315137592011-01-25T18:04:00.000-08:002011-01-25T18:04:08.780-08:00Reality Bites! So my sister challenged me to follow in her footsteps and start a blog. Never one to shy away from a good challenge I accepted. Setting up the blog was easy, finding something worthy to write about however proved to be the real challenge! I'm told most bloggers write about what they're passionate about......problem with that concept is that as of this moment I'm finding it very hard to remember the things I am infact passionate about!! Perhaps my lack of passion has something to do with the fact that I am in the midst of a quater life crisis! Prior to entering adulthood I assumed I had at least until age 50 before I started to question my existence. Never once did I imagine that at 27 I would be sitting at a computer asking myself what the hell am I doing??<br />
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27 always seemed so old to me. However now that I'm here I can honestly say it looks nothing like I thought it would back when I was a 16yr old lying on my bed surrounded by posters of Leonardo DiCaprio. I remember establishing 22 as my cut off point for making it as an actress in Hollywood. I honestly believed that was my destiny- after a nose job or two Hollywood would come knocking, and all the people who had doubted me in the past would then marvel at my success. Well 22 came and went and I can assure you that I am a far cry from the glittering lights of Hollywood. So where did it all go wrong?? As of this moment I have no answer. The journey from 16 to now has gone so fast that it's hard to pin point the exact moment when reality came and bit me in the ass. <br />
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Growing up we are constantly encouraged to dream big, but the danger with that is that sometimes you dream soo big that the idea of a normal life just doesn't cut it anymore. At some point you have to accept that the cold hard fact that the fantasy life u had invisioned as a teenager might be just that-a fantasy and nothing more. So here lies my dilemma, do I give up on the pipe dreams of the past and finally accept a dignified normal existence? Or do I make a last ditch effort to ensure I avoid the 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' trap . I think I'm going to change my cut off point to 32!<br />
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Yours Faithfully<br />
FionaLil Fizzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01774606227928151752noreply@blogger.com5