Tag Archives: irish

Oh Danny Boy!

Following on from last night’s promise to get rejected once a day by another human being, I’ve decided to ask Danny O’Donoghue out on a date. Yes, the Danny O’Donoghue from international superstar band The Script, who was a judge on The Voice UK, and who has been romantically linked with famous, drop-dead gorgeous singers and models. I don’t do things in halves.

Yesterday, I heard on the radio that Danny had signed up for dating app Tinder and couldn’t get a single date because nobody believed it was him. Or at least that’s his excuse.

This morning, with my thoughts about Rejection Therapy and Danny O’Donoghue’s woeful love life bumping around in that crazy head of mine, I came up with the genius idea of asking one of Ireland’s most famous musical frontmen out on a date.

Not that I’ve ever fantasised about Danny or put his posters on my wall or even attended one of his gigs. Sorry Danny. But I could grow to love you if you just give me a chance. But because the rule is to get rejected once a day. Not to try to get rejected but to actually get rejected.

And the likelihood that Danny O’Donoghue, who’s probably in London right now getting ready for his performance on The Voice UK live final, will say yes to a date with a non-famous, random stranger who has the balls to cold-call/social-media-stalk him are slim to none. I know, I know, think positive. But I’m positively chuffed with myself for even dreaming up this craziness.

Initially, I considered joining Tinder just so I could find him. But then I’d have to sign up, scroll through endless pages of men (#firstworldproblems), hopefully match with him and then pluck up the courage to ask him out. He might not be in the country (which means he won’t appear in my search). And he’s probably already deleted his account after being rejected by every woman in Tinderland.

I decided to direct message him on Twitter but could find no option to do so. Probably so he isn’t inundated with mails from crazy ladies like myself.

Then, I actually toyed with the idea of tweeting him. Publicly. So I could suffer my rejection in front of all of his 1.12 million followers. But I’d only have 123 characters to sell myself and that just isn’t enough. No matter how awesome I think I am.

Instead, I’m writing this post and I’m going to tweet a link of it to him. Here goes…

Dear Danny,

My name is Sharon Vogiatzi and I would like to ask you out on a date. I heard on the radio yesterday that you couldn’t get a single date on Tinder and because I’m a kind and compassionate (and beautiful and not at all crazy) person, I’ve decided to ask you out.

I’m also asking you out because I’ve just challenged myself to get rejected once a day by another human being (there is method to this madness, I promise). And the likelihood of you actually saying yes to a random self-helping stranger is probably slim to none. 

Now, if you really would like to take me out on a date (or I can take you out, I’m easy-going like that), but you worry that you’ll mess up my challenge, that’s okay. My answer is yes. I will go out with you. I’ll just get rejected by somebody else. No biggie.

In case you’d like to know more about me before you agree, I’m 34 (So are you. I googled you. It must be fate). I’m an acupuncturist, a Life Coach and a blogger.

And if this Twitter account isn’t managed by Danny, please show Danny this cringetastic letter. For the craic. He’s Irish and loves the craic.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours (too soon?)

Sharon Vogiatzi.

I feel so much anxiety in my chest right now that I might actually swoon (Hopefully Danny will too. Swoon that is, not feel anxiety, although he probably should.)

Right, I’m off to tweet Danny O’Donoghue (eek!) and try to fill my lungs with oxygen. Wish me luck!

I'm trying!

I’m trying!

Image: keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

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“Depression is a friend, not my enemy” by Conor Cusack

Have a look at this amazing blog on depression, written by Irishman Conor Cusack. Conor bravely, honestly and perfectly describes the pain of depression. The most amazing part of this article is when he calls depression his friend, not his enemy. He admits that:

“Once or twice a year, especially when I fall into old habits, my ‘friend’ pays me a visit. I don’t push him away or ignore him. I sit with him in a chair in a quiet room and allow him to come. I sit with the feeling. Sometimes I cry, other times I smile at how accurate his message is. He might stay for an hour, he might stay for a day. He gives his message and moves on.”

Emotion welled up in me as I read his words. Conor believes that depression is “a message from a part of your being to tell you something in your life isn’t right and you need to look at it.” I agree.

It’s so important to sit with how you’re feeling, to ask yourself what’s needed for you to be able live an authentic life, and to really listen to yourself even when all you want to do is run away.

If you would like an insight into how someone with depression is feeling or if you would like some reassurance that you’re not alone, this article is a must-read.

crossfit707.com

crossfit707.com

Instalove

I was describing my new Christmas pyjamas to someone recently when she asked if I’d taken a photo of myself in said pyjamas and posted it on Instagram or Facebook because, she continued: “So-and-so* tells me you’ve been taking a lot of photos of yourself lately.” *Name has been changed to protect anonymity.

I felt annoyed and embarrassed. Because (a): People were talking about me behind my back. And (b): If they were saying it, how many others were? I worried that I’d appear vain or insecure or both.

I chided myself for getting upset over such a trivial matter. Then, I remembered that I don’t give out to myself any more. I reminded myself that I’m human and I still care what others think of me, though less so than before. Thankfully!

I realised that I don’t have to take the comment in a negative way. It doesn’t mean that these people don’t like me. It was a simple observation. Like: “Sheesh Sharon, you’ve been going on a lot of cycles lately!” or “Wow, you drank a lot of water today.”

Clearly, this has stirred something in me. Something that was already there. It just took this comment to shine a light on it. So I hacked into my two earlier points and came up with the following:

(a) I don’t want people to speak about me behind my back. Is that true? Well, I’d quite like it actually if they were talking about how talented and gorgeous I am. And if they’re saying something negative, would I rather they say it to my face? Not really.

(b) I was worrying about people thinking I was vain or insecure. The irony is that I was being vain and insecure by worrying about being seen as vain and insecure.

weheartit.com

weheartit.com

These days, many girls (and guys for that matter) are taking selfies with their cellphones. And with the prevalence of amazing App Instagram, we can paint ourselves in fantastically forgiving filters.

The thing is, I love beautiful things. I enjoy taking pictures of them and I delight in Instagramming them, then sharing them via social media. I actually take plenty more pictures of nature than I do of myself. So why is it more acceptable to upload shots of flowers and trees than profiles of your fabulous self?

It’s because you’ll be seen as “up yourself” or “too big for your boots”. The confidence of the Americans is often perceived as brash and annoying across the Atlantic. It’s a rather Irish trait to not want to be seen as “getting ahead of yourself”. Modesty is our currency. No wonder we’re broke.

All the personal development books tell us to love ourselves but sure that’s a daft notion to us Irish. “That wan really loves herself” is a horrific insult round these parts. And we’d feel mad foolish speaking affirmations into a mirror!

I distinctly remember, as a very small child, being read a lovely fairy-tale. The heroine of the story was a beautiful young thing who didn’t know how beautiful she was. This only made her more beautiful to all who witnessed her shy beauty. However, she believed she was a dreadful, lowly creature. She lived her life this way until, one day, a dashing prince set his eyes on her and fell head over heels in love, much to her total astonishment. And, of course, they lived happily ever after. The end.

At the tender age of five years, I decided that I would be just like that fictional doormat of a character. To think of myself as less than was surely the right way to do it. I can’t logic this out for you now as I can’t quite get back into the mindset of that tiny child. But it’s no wonder it’s been a long, challenging process turning it all around.

The fact that I now see myself or my new haircut or the bright orange of the scarf I’m wearing in the same admiring light as the autumn leaves or the ocean or that delicious cupcake I’m about to scoff is wonderful.

I don’t think these people did anything wrong for making such a comment. A comment is just a comment. It is my reaction to it that matters. I looked at my reaction, thanks to the light that was shone upon it, and accepted it.

I’m delighted I’ve come this far. And for me, social media is all about sharing. One day, I’ll want to share with you my latest blog or a stunning piece of music. The next, I’ll post an inspirational quote or a picture I just took of a woman who loves herself.

picasaweb.google.com

picasaweb.google.com