05/11/20 – Michael Fassbender and Me

I’m sitting in my car as I write this, this is proving to be a lot more difficult thatnI had first anticipated, I think I’d better buck up my ideas. Anyway I’ve really got very little to talk about so I thought I’d tell a story about my German Granda or my Opa, as I knew him. For context; my mummy is German, my Opa died on my birthday in 2009 and beforehand had been very ill. Also, I am incredibly sceptical and not religious at all.

So anyway, it was the night of the 125 year GAA anniversary match between Tyrone and Dublin, I know because my daddy was at the game and we watched it at home. My mummy got a phone call from family in Germany to say that Opa looked really bad and that he was going in for surgery or something I think. My mummy was in absolute hysterics, I was only 8 at the time but I vividly remember saying ‘If Opa died on my birthday it would be like a gift cos he would be out of pain’. Some dickhead has definitely read that and probably called bullshit already but I wouldn’t lie. Listen I don’t know what possessed 8 year old me to say that, I don’t even really know the context behind it.

*break for a quick Google*

Ok so for the first time I’ve actually gone back and checked what date this night was, I’d always remembered it as September which is why I was so puzzled as to why I said that because he didn’t die until February. It turns out however that the match was actually played on the 31st January 2009 and he died on the 17th of February the same year. I’d always kind of half-doubted whether I’d actually said it or if it had any relevance to his death because I thought the match was in September, this is a bit of a revelation for me to be honest. See, when I went to write this story it was going to be the same way I tell it to everyone, that I don’t believe in God but that one really weird thing happened to me and it was either a massive coincidence or there is a higher power. But I’ll be honest and say that I think it was a coincidence but it definitely has stuck with me. It was just so weird that I said that at 8 years of age, it’s imprinted in my mind so clearly and then of course he actually did die on my birthday at about 4pm I think.

We were close even though we didn’t share a common language. His hugs were the best as well, I can remember the last time I hugged him very clearly as well, not visually but like I get the feeling back. Its so strange because I only knew him until I was 8 but I feel like I know him so well even now.

It’s great having a German Ma, it’s a bit intense at times but she’s essentially the same as Irish mummy’s only she doesn’t laugh and has a shorter, more efficient working week. I’ve always said that a mix of German and Irish creates a perfect hybrid. The Germans are fucking loud people they really are so I’d say I inherited that from them. However Irish people actually move in slow motion no joke, me and my girlfriend Katie were walking down the street at about 8.15am on a Monday morning and I just paused and looked, everyone walks in slow motion, even when we rush, we rush in slow motion. I’m sure anyone that’s been to a big metropolitan city can appreciate the difference in tempo one observes in Ireland. This mixture between stern, no nonsense German blood and hearty, witty, lazy Irish blood has churned out a true phenom. He’s equipped with killer looks and an undeniable talent for acting. His personality is to die for and his net worth would make you ashamed. That’s right guys Michael Fassbender is one handsome half-breed. I’m sure very few of you knew that yes indeed me and Michael share our genetic make up which could very well be key to both of our successes in our respective fields. I mean, not to take anything away from Michael, but I’ve heard he hasn’t completed his Bronze Swimming Certificate which I happen to have done. So whilst German and Ireland share two sons, it turns out only one is a proven semi-competent swimmer. I refuse to accept Michael Fassbender’s ability to swim until I see a proper certificate.

Right listen I don’t even know if anyone other than my mate Donal Mackin and my girlfriend Katie reads this but if anyone else does then allow me to apologise for the shite you just read. I’m sitting at about 750 words right now. This is super hard and I definitely underestimated how much 1000 words was, 750 is so much more attractive but people have donated so much money that I don’t give one a shit I’m gonna hit that word count. This throws me back to Business Studies or the ‘art of hyperbole’ as I like to sometimes call it. Sitting up on a Thursday night when I should be sleeping with about 5 minutes until the deadline desperately typing literally anything that could pass for the English language just to reach a deadline. Now imagine a world without deadlines – bliss, see 1000 words isn’t stressful but 1000 words before midnight, every day for a whole month, with nobody to prompt my writing and the added pressure of people having donated their money…regret sets in.

I jest, I do not regret this one bit, its one of my favourite achievements to date. Its probably one of the first times I’ve had an idea come to fruition and although it’s never quite how you originally imagined it, this time it’s even better. The feeling of doing something that you feel is making a difference no matter how small does make falling asleep a little bit easier.

I apologise for the drivel guys, tomorrow I’ll be back with a better piece perhaps about masculinity or something interesting. If you’ve made it this far then you’re worth asking for feedback from, if you’re reading and haven’t let me know you’ve read any of my posts then please do and tell me what you think. I will take all criticisms with open arms because I know I’m not meant to be good at this.

Thanks for bearing with me folks, come back tomorrow and it’ll be better I promise.

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