The cynical side of my brain is convinced that Ireland is a country based on waves – be they of COVID, careerist coalition partners, or emigration. It sometimes feels as if we’re stuck having the same few conversations every five months or years, running into depressingly similar problems without any real conclusion. I guess this habit has been accelerated with this never-ending pandemic – what was initially experienced as tragedy quickly arrives back as farce the second it exits our memory.
There’s an undeniable sense of déjà vu in the media cycles during each surge – almost as if we’re watching the exact same b-roll of pubs, the exact same debates about generation gaps, the exact same lobbyists chatting pure shite without any repercussion. It sometimes feels as if we ritualistically psych ourselves up each season, angrily staring at empty restaurant tables or teens drinking cans. We then delude ourselves into thinking that COVID can be bartered with and promptly act all shocked when the virus refuses our brown envelope. Existing as a young person here can often resemble being endlessly bashed against the same wall – with those around us feigning a false sense of novelty.