C’mon the Cats!

So, without further ado…

How many total songs?
8237 songs, equal to 23.4 days or 28.89 GB. I do have tons more that’s just unsorted though, in seperate folders elsewhere on my external harddrive. Integrating the whole lot together is a (very) long-term project. I did a Windows search on them before and counted the full tally of songs at somewhere around 21,000.

Sort by song title - first and last?

• First: “A-Punk” by Vampire Weekend
• Last: “99 Red Balloons” by Nena

Sort by time - shortest and longest?

• Shortest: “Windows XP Shut Down Effect (Piano Solo)” (0:02) by Martin Leung, “the Video Game pianist”. The shortest actual self-sufficient musical thing - not including spoken interludes on albums, and that kind of thing - is the “Itchy And Scratchy” End Credits Theme.
• Longest: Godskitchen “Live at the Point Theatre, Dublin” (1hr 21). I have four tracks over one hour in length, and then five radio records from a show I used to do on Belfield FM which are between 58 and 61 minutes each.

Sort by Album - first and last?

• First: “Aaagh!” by Republic of Loose
• Last: Either “( )” by Sigur Rós, “/±” by Oxide and Neutrino, “9th Symphony” by Beethoven or “9″ by Damien Rice

Sort by Artist - first and last?

• First: A-ha
• Last: 98 Degrees

Top five played songs?

They’re actually completely empty at the minute, this being the first time iTunes has been operated since the laptop was reformatted. It’s also deleted all the music on my iPod so I’ve no idea. My last computer at work was pretty stocked with Radiohead though.

Find the following words. How many songs show up?

• Sex: 74
• Death:44
• Love:408
• You: 958
• Home:68
• Boy: 192 (193 if you count “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne)
• Girl:122

Not very well, mind, but I’m getting there.

Please have a look on my Flickr here and let me know what you think…

Pure excellence.

So, this is my first entry as a UCDSU alumnus - like Ciara, I left office at the stroke of midnight on Tuesday morning - and so far I can’t say I’ve been all too overcome with emotion about leaving the job. Somewhere around Spring a switch flipped in me where things at work seemed to tire me more than excite me and while I don’t regret taking the year out of my life for something that at times has stirred passion in me that few things have ever matched, I do feel a natural sense of conclusion in quietly slipping out and getting on with other things.

Having started the new job this week - with the Affordable Homes Partnership - and with Ciara still doing her job in Croker and her evening classes, we haven’t been seeing quite as much of each other as we’re used to, where instead of going to work together and going home together, we work in different places and don’t get every evening together either. When we have gotten time to ourselves this week we’ve taken to watching The Office (obviously) in bed. Having made it as far as the Christmas Specials (after four attempts!) I came across the first thirty-odd seconds of this bit:

I think it says pretty much all there is to say about life down there - you really are just thrown together with people with whom you have little but the same CAO preferences, and being able to spend it with a couple of people who just fit into your life anyway is quite a special thing and for that I’m very lucky and truly grateful.

So that’s that then. What’s next? Accidentally making the Six One news (clicky) yesterday for a couple of seconds with the new workplace being featured in a report by Gareth O’Connor and including a shot of me from a not-so-flattering angle. Well for some, eh? If anyone’s bored call AHP free on 1800 365 555 over the weekend - that’s me doing the voicemail.

Amusingly enough, the press release that went out from the photocall last week (recall?) carried myself and Steph’s home addresses for some reason, and my local radio station in Meath, LMFM, called work on Thursday asking if they could get a number “for that young man who got an affordable home, just to talk to him about his experiences of trying to find housing”. Now that was a call-back that was worth listening into. Imagine, my new employers denying my adoring public a chance to speak to me? I suppose it would probably never reach the same glorious peaks as my appearance with George Hook last August anyway on other matters accommodation. Which reminds me - I must throw up an mp3 of that.

Anyway, today’s drenched Saturday shall be spent importing my 70GB-odd of music from the external hard drive - and about ten hours’ worth of new podcasts - onto my re-formatted laptop (my God, the speed…), so expect more frequent posts today with me reminiscing about/guffawing about/taking the piss out of a decade’s worth of a music collection.

Starting with some of my favourite TV scenes EVER.

(Fabulous scene… bittersweet)

(I CANNA SEE, I GOT PAINT IN ME EYES!)

(What else?!)

(My childhood, right there)

(S-E-X)

(Just hilarious)

(The greatest show of all time)

OMG.

‘Nuff said.

Looking forward to what Unarocks has to say about the Jay-Z debacle; personally I thought it was banging, was glued to the TV all weekend. Mark Ronson’s set seemed decent too, but what do I know, because…
YES I went to Boyzone, YES I had fun, YES you can fuck off. I’m with McLynn on this one.

Mother and Orla came to visit and elder sister even stayed over on Saturday, bringing cold hard cash and M&S cookies. On the win list for sure.

Gave a voucher a battering on Benefit buying products such as this, this and that. God bless vouchers for ensuring you have nice skin on an oh-so-rainy day.

Have a woeful pain in my left arm, a sort of dull, throbbing pang of aghness, and the accountants are laughing at me, nerdy so-and-sos. Last time I said fuckers my Nan told me to say ‘so-and-sos’, so there you go Peggy. She’s probably online… she’s not a regular Nan, she’s a cool Nan. Very mean-girls-velour-tracksuit. I’m lying.

Study is crappy-pile-of-highlighed-and-starred-for-asthetics-load-of bull. So I’m dealing with it by kicking its ass.

Reading lots about the Women’s Liberation movement in the 70s, it all started with a book Reilly bought me called Monday’s at Gaj’s. Oh, the male oppressors.

Spain won. There was a Torres v. Ballack situation in Treesdale, but we couldn’t argue with the result.

I’m a bit meh at the minute, if you haven’t guessed. Darmo is coming up on Thursday, and I can tell you, I need her right now. We’re in similar situations, between projects, and both more than a little disillusioned with a plethora of stuff… but if there is one person I can rely on to supply the belly laughs, it’s my Darmo.

I lost my title at midnight. UCD seems far away. Me no likey. This may explain my aggression.

So this is the real world eh? Fucking accountants.

Want out.

What’s next?

PS - I’m liking my new phone and no I can’t do without it Declan!
PPS - Mulley on crisps and chocolate makes me want to undo my good curves work. Damn it. It’s so true. Hits the spot.

Has this - http://www.pilkipedia.co.uk/ - been around for ages?!

Amazing.

And then there was ‘The One’… who stepped out into the light at the end of the line, standing sheepishly with open arms extended. I leaned over and whispered into his ear… ‘I’ve walked the line there… and I’m still alone… care to walk with me a little?’

This morning he did just that. He took my hand and that stroll became a lifetime, a companionship.

He waited for me when I least deserved it, and loved me when I really needed it. Many possible lives were presented to me in my dream, indeed in my reality, and yet only one seems believable, the one I don’t yet know, but am about to embark on.

And there I was, thinking dream analysis was just a both of boll*cks.