Facets of a Personality
Twenty-three years in and clarity hits like a tonne of bricks – guess the frontal lobe is on its way.
Northern Ireland. I used to hate it, couldn’t wait to get away from it, and flawed as it is, I could not see its beauty. Civil war plagued it for decades. It may be full of strong but naïve political opinions masked as religious freedom of speech, etc…, but it is peaceful. For the most part, people are friendly – known for the Irish Goodbye; we give a sweet Irish Hello as well. Everybody knows everybody. It is not uncommon to find yourself in a ten-minute conversation with the bus driver upon boardin' the bus.
While I live in a city that is bursting at the seams with life and general busyness, I grew up in a village. A lovely village - nothing special about it. But, the people in it were special. For example, my childhood best friend. How did we meet? Well, my family had moved house, and desperate for a friend, I saw a middle-aged man and said to him, "Do you have any kids?". To which he responded, "Yes" - we've been friends for seventeen years now. Twenty homes in that housing estate, people came and went - it was there I learnt to love, learnt how grief felt.
Town life followed - the notorious “Portydown”, the butt of every Unionist joke going. Sure. There are Union Jacks everywhere. Painted are the curbs. UVF murals galore – but contrary to popular opinion, it isn’t THAT Unionist. Lose the Israel flags though – bad look guys (not kidding). It's weird, you become sort of used to it, desensitised almost. It wasn’t until I’d been away for a couple of years that I got the eerie feeling from all the Patriotism to our oppressor.
I’ve met some of the most important people of my formative years in Portadown. Like the girl I met on the 62 Ulsterbus on the way home from school. We'd have weekly coffees and scran cheesy gravy chips and chicken nuggets in the People's Park. Anxious to steer clear of the 'G Road' - again, pointless politics. When I was seventeen, I worked in Card Factory for a month. There, I met a transgender boy my age who loved Imagine Dragons. That may be a pointless fact, but it was so interesting to me then, such a random choice! Over the years, we faded out of touch, but he was one of the most important people in my life. Inspiring me to question and explore my sexuality with confidence. I also met a girl who has remained one of my best friends to this day. Strangely, we met on what was both her first shift there and my last, we only spoke for a bit at the tills but made a lasting impression on each-other. I had one boyfriend, but politically, he wasn't my cup of tea (orangeordercore), but he was awkward and kind. Then there was the one boy I liked, but unfortunately for both of us, I am a lesbian (sorry!) - this validates why I was so reckless with his feelings, though! Still a friend, albeit one I admit I don't see enough. He was an important person in my formative years and one who is doing everything we all could have hoped for him. Bennetts Bar - there, on my first night out after a particularly traumatic life event, I met someone who became a brother, both funny and kind. His lovely sister is my girlfriend of four and a half years currently, my life partner - the kindest of them all. Nobody compares to her, lighting up every room and winning every game with her stellar banter. She has a way of making people feel special; she makes me feel special every day.
Loughbrickland was where school was. Five days a week for seven years, the faculty there must have seen a million versions of me over the years. Academia was not of interest to me until one of the 'cool' science teachers opened my eyes to my potential. Adamant that I do well in my third-year exams to get into good GCSE classes, he took me under his wing. I did get into good classes, the top band if you will. From then on, I obsessed with both music and academia. I was sort of a no-life, but some people got it and were the same as me. The smart boy with long hair, who everyone tried to tease for his intelligence and refusal to get a skin fade. By being my best friend he kept me grounded, and always pushed me to succeed. Or, the boy who was a bit too outspoken for his own good at times, but endearing and remains an inspiration to me.
Banbridge, where I met someone who became a lifelong friend. One of the most important people in my life, we grew up together. Underage drinking, silliness, ‘talking stages’, and snap streaks ensued. Or the girl I met at the Hozier concert, who rocked up with a six-foot American in acid-washed jeans. Naïve, I assumed he was her dad, nope. He was an unaware male adult tourist trying to "get in there", as we Irish would refer to it. The guy was too stunned to speak when she asked him to buy us alcohol at the beer tents. Yes, sir, she was, in fact, underage. Once, my mum tried to get us all to buy our vodka from Winemark when we had no ID. To nobody's surprise but hers, we got rejected. Staring at the cashier with empty gazes it was a core memory for the three of us - embarrassing.
The beaches, the mountains, the Giants Causeway. The restaurants, the cafés, the charity shops. All these led me to the ripe age of nineteen, and nineteen brought me to Liverpool.
In July 2021, we boarded the Stena Line with backpacks, suitcases, memory foam pillows, and our futures ahead of us. Nervous about leaving what we knew but excited about what lay ahead of us.
Life in Liverpool didn’t start until we discovered Smithdown Road. the infamous Smithdown Road. Local independent businesses that ooze personality, each of them complimenting the other. The record store which I pitched myself to for a job and have worked for two years. The French café where the staff became friends. The pizza restaurant taught us that broccoli does belong on pizza. The pub taught me to appreciate a good craft beer.
Falkner Square evokes specific emotions. Now a ghost town of old friends, inside jokes, and some of the best months in Liverpool. “Grove Street, home” I can hear CJ’s voice from GTA San Andreas in my head every time I pass it. We used to wreak havoc here – drinking wine, spilling our guts out to each other, laughing. Sleepovers, four in a bed. Making dark jokes, but for some fucked up reason finding solace in them. Falkner Square is where they lived and where they left. Moving on to bigger and better things, yet I still imagine them there every time I pass.
Lord Street. Here, I waved goodbye for the final time to a family member. It’s a bittersweet memory in hindsight, but they were happy then, and it’s an image I cherish. It’s strange the emotions that a random street corner can evoke.
Life in Liverpool continues, we meet new people all the time. Like the barista who became a best friend, about to impart her 25 years of wisdom onto a miniature her. Through her, we will all experience motherhood first-hand with empathy. There's also the vegetarian girl who is well-versed in vegan products and film trivia. The boy whose musical adventures change on the daily. The chaotic girl who is recovering from the same nightmare housemates from Picton.
I could go on, but my point is that these people, places, and events are a permanent part of me. Altogether, these are facets of a personality. My personality - and I am grateful for it because it's pretty damn good, to be fair.
