A tectonic shift has occurred at Fighting Words NI since my last blog post. As you may remember, our workshop and office space is located in a shopping centre called Connswater. On Friday, March 7th, we received news that the shopping centre would be closing in 2 weeks and that we would need to be fully evacuated from the building by that time. This was obviously a huge shock for all of us, and a difficult reality to come to terms with. My colleagues have put so much time, care, and effort into making Connswater a welcoming and safe space for children. There’s the sensory space for neurodivergent students who need a break during workshops, the green Author Chair where children proudly share their writing with their peers, the light-up bookshelves decorated with no shortage of eclectic knick knacks, the antique door painted Fighting Words blue and adorned with a magical lion knocker. It’s a quirky space, full of life and memories. It’s integral to our identity as an organization, and it’s the only iteration of Fighting Words that I’ve ever known. 

The Monday after the announcement was made, it was Fighting Words’s 10th birthday. We ate birthday cake and laughed wryly at the morbidity of our situation. I think we all implicitly understood that there was no time or space to feel sorry for ourselves, so our first meeting was full of dark humor, self-compassion, matter-of-fact problem solving, and calm positivity. It is a tragedy to be thrown unceremoniously out of your home with only two weeks’ notice. There’s no doubt about that. But the indomitable spirit of Fighting Words has allowed us to adapt to these circumstances and we are committed and confident in our ability to continue to serve young writers in our community. This new chapter will surely bring changes in our program delivery, our work routine, and our practices going forward. However, we have been a whirlwind of action these past two weeks and we are ready to transition into this new era. Fighting Words fights on! 

March has been full of good chaos, packed schedules, and joyous experiences. In the past two weeks, I’ve hosted multiple guests from out of town, presented my Lumos project to the Belmont Honors cohort, celebrated my first Irish St. Paddy’s Day, enjoyed cooking new recipes from my Hello Fresh trial subscription, and basically have not stopped running around for 14 days straight. My laundry is piling up, I’m 10 days behind on my daily journal, and I can’t remember the last time I went to bed before midnight. All that being said, I’m happy as a clam! I thrive in busyness, and as I have matured, I have learned to distinguish between busyness for busyness’s sake and the busyness that comes from having lots of wonderful and important things that I genuinely want to dedicate my time to. This past weekend was a particular highlight, as my friend Elisabeth was visiting. We spent all of Saturday with our friend Adam, and because Adam and Elisabeth have both lived in Belfast at some point, we didn’t feel the need to spend the day hitting all the iconic Belfast spots and landmarks. Instead, we were able to enjoy the simple pleasures that come with living here: sipping matcha at a small cafe, making music together at Adam’s flat, dipping into charity shops when something caught our eye, wolfing down bean and cheese chips from the nearby chippy, and sharing our favorite songs and a Shamrock Shake on a windy night drive through the countryside. 

On Monday, the fun continued with a full day of St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Nothing makes me more sentimental than seeing a whole city come together to celebrate and be cheerful. Elisabeth ran the Spar Craic 10k in the morning, and I waited to cheer for her at the finish line. The man next to me was reading the names of the runners on their race bibs and yelling words of encouragement to them as they completed the final dash to the end. “Let’s go, Finnoula! You’ve got this, Geoff!” he shouted. As I watched someone in a full leprechaun onesie (complete with a green top hat) run past me, I felt a little bit of hope restored in me regarding the human capacity for (and tendency towards) goodness. There are a lot of disheartening and downright evil things happening in the world right now, but these pockets of whimsical positivity and kindness keep me from despair. All day long, I witnessed outlandish green outfits, friendly chats between strangers, carefree dancing, lilting live music, and a general agreement that for one day, we could pause our lives and collectively participate in something purely because it’s fun. There’s little utility or gain from a day of celebration, but our delight in frivolity is part of what makes being a human so special. As I looked around the table at my friends, I was acutely aware that I will cherish this day in my memory, and that I will miss Belfast dearly when my time here comes to a close.