Thanksgiving! and Dublin!

I've finished my presentation and now my final semester projects await me. Yay! Since my last post, so many things have taken place, but the main two were my trip to Dublin to spend the day with the lovely Claire Williamson, and the Thanksgiving dinner we hosted at the house.

Yesterday, I spent all day in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen. There were no fires. The menu? Turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, mac & cheese (of course!), mashed potatoes, corn pudding, rolls, and pie. Four pies. Apple, Pecan, Lemon and Chocolate. Friends, I pulled it off. There were 11 of us total, and I think everyone had a great time. Of course, some things, I could have done a bit better, but I didn't send anyone to the hospital and that is fine with me. We ate, drank and were merry. Success!

Last weekend, I ventured into Dublin for the first time in five years. Through a sheer stroke of luck/genius (or just sleeping through my stop), I met Claire at the airport and we headed into town. Claire's been in Glasgow for a few months and it was so great to have a JMU reunion in Ireland! Claire had found a bakery online and wanted to check it out, so we went off in search of the Cake Cafe. We couldn't find it the first time around, so we stopped to fuel up on caffeine in a little shop run by an Italian family ( I think they're Italian?) and chatted with them about directions to this cafe. Apparently, it's in a small sketchy looking alley way. It took us a total of three tries to find it, but it was worth it! Teeny tiny with almost no room, bike racks galore outside and tasty tasty cake inside. We then proceeded to roam the streets and take pretty pictures and buy books from outdoor vendors. Or rather, Claire took pretty pictures and I bought books from outside vendors. We then had an early dinner at a random cafe and then we went our separate ways, Claire to Glasgow, me to Galway. It sounds perfectly boring typing it all out, but it was actually lovely.

By the time I got back to Galway it was fairly late, but the Christmas directions looked great lit up! And that's all the excitement for me folks. Now it's off to write.

Time Management

So, things are getting down to the wire here and I just wanted to put up a quick post to say that I should really re-learn time management and that a new post will be up as soon as this work is done. Yikes!

A Night at the Cinema

So, as the boys were incredibly underwhelmed at my suggestion that we spend some quality roommate bonding time watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's", I've decided to put together a list of my all-time favorite "classics". In no particular order:

Breakfast at Tiffany's - it's cheesy, it's a little racist (Mickey Rooney as the Japanese neighbor?) and it is utter perfection. I watched it at least once a week for a year and can probably still quote it from memory.

Casablanca- Overlooking the fact that this movie is essentially not so subtle American propaganda, it's a great love story. What better pairing could there be than Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman (besides Lauren Bacall of course!)?

The Princess Bride- THE BEST FANTASY/LOVE STORY/CHICK FLICK EVER. Also, Andre the Giant plays...a giant.

Better Off Dead- one of the most quotable movies EVER. "I'm sorry your mom blew up, Ricky" can only be topped by "Two dollars!"

Pal Joey- Along with Breakfast at Tiffany's, I watched this movie over and over and over. Frank Sinatra, Rita Hayworth and Kim Novak are great. My favorite numbers? Frank singing The Lady is a Tramp and Rita singing Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

Cool Hand Luke- Paul Newman eats 50 eggs. This movie only slightly edges out Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid from the list, just slightly. Watch both.

A League of Their Own- Girls playing baseball? Of course I would love this movie. "There's no crying in baseball!" (Starring Geena Davis and Tom Hanks- I cry every time)

Ten Things I Hate You- Classic teenage chick flick. Shakespeare? Heath Ledger? What more do you need? Oh yeah, a catchy soundtrack!

The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex- Yes, this is in black and white and stars Bette Davis and she looks like one scary Queen. Fantastic.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame - My favorite musical of all time. Yes, even more than Singin' in the Rain or My Fair Lady. This stars Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Betty Garrett and Esther Williams. The tunes are catchy and it centers around love and baseball. AH.

Field of Dreams- Of course I have to put this on here, but it could very well include Bull Durham or For Love of the Game or yes, even Tin Cup. Kevin Coster at his best. "Is this heaven?" - "No, it's Iowa".

I know I've left so many out, but this is the shortlist. Feel free to add more and definitely definitely watch these!

Poetry in the Afternoon

Because it's miserable outside, I'm going to post this poem and hope you all enjoy it. It's pretty long. Sorry :(. As you might be able to tell, the theme this week was travel...

Holly Golightly Meets Her Match

I hate Arizona,

even the canyon tried to swallow me whole-

if you had seen me giving that Mexican boy hell

in the Pepboys on a steamy Saturday evening ten minutes

before closing time and five hours after I was meant to be in San Diego

you would have believed in me

that was Yuma, but Pheonix was just the same

until Steve at the triple A sorted me out and

calmed me down after my battle of wits

with the morons at the dealership

I don't think it would have been easier if you were there

maybe in California, once i got out of the desert

that godforsaken desert that kept on and on and on

like the free range in New Mexico where I was sure

I would die an unrecorded death and not even the cattle

would find me before my body started to swell

and the silver bullet of my car began to stink to high heaven

but California, you would have liked that

San Diego, Los Angeles - not so much

but Monterey, Santa Barbara, that little unnamed town

with the stretch of beach so perfect it made me cry

and I sat there until the wind made my ears start to scream

my hair reduced to the beginnings of salty dreadlocks

it rained in San Francisco, the fog covered the bridge so that

I couldn't see anything but the faint outline of Alcatraz

the old married couples and teenage lovers asked for pictures anyway

I made sure to hold the button halfway to focus so they remember clearly

the deeper I got into the forest the less enchanted I felt

farther and farther from your cities and night life

and Chinese take out you say is actually crap

but better than none at all and I kept driving through

what they call the Avenue of the Giants

and hoping to God that there would be some sort

of food to be found sometime soon because

it is lonely in the Pacific Northwest

so I waited by the homeless man at the Capitol building

and climbed trees barefoot in the snow

met a little girl named Sorcha who can't eat dairy but whose

mother speaks Irish and comes from Donegal

they have tea with Susan in her shop on High Street almost every day

I found a family who needed me more than you

I waited there and chased away monsters,

they loved the circus called Merlin on the Trampoline

there was no trampoline in my room with the slanted ceiling

right off Chemeketa street that was not really a street

just a dead end like the light in my room wasn't daylight

only a pull string light bulb and at night

the train made its last round at two a.m.

Oregon's state motto is She flies

with her own wings and so I did too

and left the children running after me in the middle

of the road where no one but the mailman who was afraid

of the dog who would never bite, ever stood

I tried to tell the man with the ukelele on the park bench goodbye

but he had never found my gold watch and walked away with his shopping cart

Idaho is a place where people from Oregon

go to rehab and young women should never travel

alone because the woman at the only convenience store

in what is not a town outside of Boise would never

trust the roads or men in Idaho

but Utah is just as questionable with shirtless roadside truckers

who rose from their moving cab to wave at me while I took a picture

of snowcapped mountains because I'd never seen mountains

with that much snow and though I'm sure that missionaries are people

just like us, the lady in Idaho doesn't believe people

have manners west of the Mississippi River

I cried in hotel rooms that only had room for one king bed and still

smelled vaguely of cigarettes and one night stands even though

the sign outside showed happy families that looked like the type

of people that might smoke but never inhale

I didn't write this part of my life down because you had stopped reading

and I stopped crying when I found more snow in Wyoming and two cowboys

who checked the air in my tires and told me not to drive too fast

the roads are so so straight out here and I can drive forever because stopping

means I might miss something

you almost made me miss the Rockies but I pulled

myself together in time because I would never forgive myself

had I not flirted with the college boys on a skiing trip just because I could

I had not spoken a word for miles except

to that boy you never liked because you said he was a creep

and something of a redneck with too much money

he wanted to marry me but I thought it was a joke

like the boys at the rest stop with their skis on top of Toyotas

who bought me a coffee and asked me if I would stay

Nebraska came just in time to sway me with October,

there is nothing like that light that you imagine never appears anywhere else

except maybe just off the Columbia River over the Cascades into

the Indian reservation on your way out of Portland

but surely, nowhere else but there and this stretch of land

that Willa Cather used as propaganda to lure you and me into a

false sense of security because I was not your Antonia after all

because heaven isn't heaven, it's only Iowa

I stayed just long enough to cross into Missouri

where the only thing between Kansas City and St. Louis

is what saves these cities from themselves and the rolling hills

produce red barns and farmhouses that match the ones in my dreams

the best grilled cheese I ever had came from the Sonic drive thru just

before midnight and I would have gone for another but I was writing again

as if I didn't know that the arches in St. Louis would be the gateway to the hell

that is Indiana but is still more appealing than Arizona or say, perhaps

Lubbock, Texas regardless of the musical genius it produced

everyone has to get out of somewhere and in Texas there's nothing else to do

but learn to play guitar and hope one day you might live somewhere else

even if it means living in Indiana

the Queen of England has never been to Arkansas

but she has been to Louisville, Kentucky

and I have been to both and you have been to neither

I don't believe it is because you can't appreciate the beauty

of something you don't understand but perhaps it plays a factor or

perhaps you are just afraid even if I believed you were never afraid

of anything save running out of cigarettes or those drugs you stashed

behind the air vents in my car that summer we spent driving around

Staunton, Virginia for no apparent reason except I remember it was Staunton

because of the Waffle House by the interstate exit

by the time I hit the mountains, the ones that don't have snow in the summer

I was feeling better about you not feeling at all

when the sun hits the dome of the capitol in Charleston, West Virginia

it is best to look away to avoid the glare and pray that you stay on the bridge

and everyone else does too because that dome is really something else

they may burn couches in Huntington and you may say that the people here

are backwards and I may be inclined to agree but there is nothing you can say

about the mountains that go on forever like the sea in California

that moved me and would have moved you but you were not a part

of this journey even if it was your idea and I cross the mountains anyway

and I would do it over and over again because this is not the desert

I know you measure your life by the cities where you have lived

and the places you have traveled and not the people you meet

because you would see the rest stop and not the hippies outside

the men's restroom door hoping to catch a ride and maybe an extra joint

to end up at another bathroom door a couple hundred miles somewhere else

and you would never offer them a ride not because you aren't like them

but because you wouldn't see them because

for all your interest in the world you wouldn't be caught dead

buying peanuts from a vending machine off Route 66

I didn't know that but I do now and I only have you to thank

for the unlikely conversation over strawberry shortcake with the old man

who ran that bakery in Memphis and the sweet black man who worked there

and left shortly after to become a hairdresser in Chicago

if it weren't for you I would never have befriended that cop that pulled me over

at the state line outside of Lincoln, Nebraska and he would never have warned me

about that speed trap in Iowa so I'm not sure how I can thank you for not

loving me enough and not moving into that studio apartment in New York City

where we were supposed to be instead of driving all over this giant country

that is more united than we are and that's not saying much

so this is me trying to thank you for your last act of tenderness

I am not afraid

I am. Not. Afraid.

What do you mean, read?

An interesting topic was brought up today in Fiction Class. We were talking about the structure of novels and if the traditional novel was on its way out in favor of books that favor experimental structures. Somehow, that got us talking about the reading habits of people (particularly young people) today. Is reading on its way out? Do people have the attention span anymore to read, say, Jane Austen, or is the novel dying? Why are novels like Harry Potter and Twilight so popular and why are they not being effectively used as a gateway to reading? I want to know what people think, so comment below!

In other news, I bought a different brand of garlic butter yesterday and I'm here to report that all garlic butters are not equal. This also applies to raincoats. While the majority of my torso stayed dry today, my raincoat was ill prepared to deal with the monsoon I faced walking to class today. My rainboots didn't let me down, and though my pants were drenched, literally dripping, my feet were dry. So this is good news. And class was pretty engaging today. Well worth getting soaked to talk about books and sip my almond latte.

Tonight's agenda includes eating, lots of tea, attempting to trim my hair (yes, this could get interesting) reading some criticism of the poet Nuala ni Dhomnaill (I think I spelled that right), and writing. Ah.

Saddle up, Partner

After a weekend of relative sunshine, the rain has come back for its work week. I got up at 8:30 this morning despite the gray skies, so I already feel accomplished. There are clothes in the washer, my bag is packed for the day. All that's left is to call Bertie and tell him about our cracked window. Why do I end up having to do these things? Sigh. I am the oldest in the house, and it was an accident, but I hate when things don't run smoothly! In fact, as I type, I may just call him and get it over with. Yikes. Please pause for this service announcement...Caught him at a meeting, but things went well and quickly, yay! This is why I like getting up early. Even if I don't get anything done, I still feel like I have. On the agenda today is the library (I hope), poetry class, a meeting with a school coordinator to see if I can volunteer with the Homework Club there, and maybe, JUST maybe a writing meeting. You see, due to some peer pressure, I've signed up for NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month (though I think it should be International at this point). That's right (or write, haha), in addition to actually going to class, planning a Thanksgiving dinner and now possibly volunteering, I've committed myself to writing a novel in 30 days. Excellent. We shall see how this goes. Now, onto the weekend!

I took a bus tour to Kylemore Abbey this weekend and let me say that this was one of the best spent Saturdays yet! I caught the bus from Sleepzone Hostel and then switched to a smaller one a short ride later. Two girls were also on the same bus and voila, instant friends! These two friends are Carina and Yuri, from Germany and Japan respectively. Both were just traveling through Ireland separately and we're all students. We also met two other German girls, Josefine and Mareike (Mareike is studying at NUIG this semester) and then Juliana from Brazil. I find that it might be easier to meet people this way because you're all sharing the same experience at the same time and most of the people you meet are also traveling and friendly and interested in making friends. At school, most people are focused on their studies and have an established group of friends in some cases. Either way, we formed a little group and went gallivanting around abbeys, friarys (what IS the plural of friary?), and the town of Cong. Cong is actually the town where a good part of "The Quiet Man" was filmed, so if you grew up on John Wayne films like I did (though I maintain "The Searchers" is the best of all), you'd be pretty excited. It's funny though. Since I've been here, I find it hard to be a tourist with abandon. I don't know why, but I think maybe it's because I'm finding that a lot of pre-conceptions about Ireland isn't really accurate, which I knew going in, but still, it's interesting. Plus, I don't think anyone on the bus could really fully appreciate that banter caught on screen between the Duke and Maureen O'Hara. Of course, Carina, Yuri and I were a bit late catching the bus.

The bus driver, Mike, already knew Carina from a previous tour and now we had established ourselves as the "troublemakers". Mike was a really funny guy and a great guide, he definitely knows his stuff. Imagine the Irish version of my Dad as a tour guide and you've got Mike. We stopped somewhere along the way, and we saw two men wearing foil coats. I figured it was to keep warm, but I wasn't sure, so I asked Mike. His response? "They're cookin'!". So I rolled my eyes, replied "har. har. har." and went and asked the men myself. They were doing an adventure race and it was to keep them warm. Mike loved it. Once we got to Kylemore Abbey, we grabbed some lunch and invited Mike to sit with us. He plays in a brass band which apparently involves a bit of drinking. Who knew? Now, the Abbey was originally a castle/summer home built by a man for his wife's wedding gift. It was later bought by a bankrupt Duke and then when he lost it, Benedictine Nuns acquired it and turned it into a boarding and day school. Today, the school is closed and there are 3 rooms open to the public. We had to run off to see the Abbey and the gardens before the bus left us (as was threatened). We thought we'd timed it perfectly. We'd seen the Abbey, the Gothic Church and chased a stray sheep (he didn't want to play) around a graveyard. We got the bus to the gardens and figured we'd get back just in time though we'd have to forgo the gift shop. No big deal. The gardens were gorgeous! They were walled in by brick with giant teal colored doors (I love teal) and just amazing. One of the gardeners was around and he looked like he could just as easily work at Bollo's or Gillie's. We raced around the gardens taking pictures and trying not to wake the cat that we found asleep on bags of soil. I was tempted to jump into an empty wheelbarrow, but at the last second, I caught the gardener in the corner of my eye and refrained. We were going to be late if we didn't hurry to catch the bus (the gardens are a mile from the Abbey). We made it. BUT, the couple with a baby in a stroller did not. They didn't rush either. They moseyed on over to the bus in their own time. By the time we got to the let off point, we should have been at our bus, so we took off running down the hill, over the bridge and into the parking lot. Of course, we were late, and we were the last ones. Somehow, I was targeted as the culprit. (This always happens...) One note before I continue: Connemara is gorgeous. Indescribably .

On our way back, we passed the Courthouse, so just for the craic (fun), when Mike shouted back at us and told us if we weren't well behaved this weekend, we'd end up there on Monday morning, I shouted back that I knew the Courthouse well (I do, I pass it on my way to school sometimes). As he dropped us off, he told me he'd look for my face in the papers the next day. I am definitely going on another tour with this guy.

The rest of the weekend was spent devouring trick or treaters candy, watching bad t.v. and reading. We did have some trick or treaters last night which was really fun, but for the most part, Halloween was rather tame this year. For now, having devoured some lunch, I'm going to head off to the library before class, then starts my marathon of the day. Wish me luck!

Good Morning, Mrs. Bliss!

Before the weekend begins in earnest, I'd like to post two things for your reading pleasure (or non-pleasure). The first is the poem that was jointly written by myself, Maire and Helen. I posted my contribution last week and we met up this week to write a poem from three separate poems. It was really fun! I think all three of us enjoyed the process and even though our poems were originally about three different things (the ocean, Rome and Giles County - all with the title of happiness), I think our finished product reads pretty well.

Felicita

The angels and the sculptured men

Learning to fly, free falling into growing up

Heaven was above my head

And beneath my feet some pebbled stones

Picture me, sandwiched between hot breath and not so sculpted bodies

Then comes the snow, two hours delay

She lingered until my mouth was warm

As he lay beneath its blank ceiling; belly bent and crumpled

Falling in love, serious this time

The sound drew closer as my ears froze

His exhausted body is sketched into history

Whether you want it to be or not, this knowing

Other than its place upon this globe

As round as an orange under light

Preserve the colour, colour, colour!

Heaven and eden belong to him now.

The second post comes from our Writer's Workshop response. Our speaker mentioned a project she had worked on about a woman being shot by the IRA. It was based on true events and when she researched it, the papers listed the cause of death as "Death by Misadventure". While her topic was serious, the phrase stuck with me because as some of you know, I frequently refer to my dating life as a misadventure. SO, with that thought in mind, I recalled a short story I had heard a couple years ago (courtesy of SJB), based on a personal ad. So the following is my own effort. I hope you like it.

Death By Misadventure

WANTED

SWF looking for SWM. Also looking for a LIFE. If the said male could contribute to this, the author would gladly agree to a second date. Looking for male who is kind and funny, also would prefer intelligent. Would prefer a life that does not require author to work in a chocolate factory but would very much like to eat chocolate, should the male provide this for her. Other things that would contribute to success: enjoyment of foreign films (author would like to note she would not judge male for NOT liking foreign films, but a willingness to watch would suffice), appreciation of fried foods (excepting oreos and twinkies as author finds these disgusting). In fact, though the author does not discriminate against vegans or vegetarians, she would very much like to not date one, as she enjoys bacon cheeseburgers and would not like to feel more guilty than she already does for consuming them. That being said, she welcomes candidates of all backgrounds and walks of life though a lack of criminal record provides an advantage. Author would like to highlight the fact that she does not seek a male to provide her with a life necessarily as she is sure she can find either one on her own. However, as she is clearly making an effort it seems silly to look for one and not the other. Qualities looked for in life would involve a certain amount of travel, though not anything that involves natural disaster or life or death situations, author would like to clarify she wants to travel for recreation only. Some things to consider before replying to this ad: as author condones full disclosure of all information to any replies, she wishes to come clean about a few things. Author does not have room for chickpeas or pickles in her life old or new and would greatly appreciate her future and perhaps potential life partner to respect this. She also would like to stress that although she is looking for adventure and excitement in life she does not look for drama (unless, of course, it involves the New York Metropolitan Opera or any community theatre performing musicals or Tennessee Williams). New life must be an upgrade from present life as the author is content at the moment where she is and would not like to digress but rather broaden her scope beyond Ben and Jerry’s Dublin Mudslide, the Princess Bride, the Disney Channel and singing Taylor Swift in the comfort of her own vehicle. She would very much like if she is not judged but rather cherished for these things. Lest she be categorized as flighty, the author would like to emphasize that she would never expect something of her partner she is not capable of herself. The author also enjoys crossword puzzles and public radio, as well as documentaries and volunteer work. Respondents are not required to share all of these interests, but those who do not will most likely not be compatible with the author and will therefore be discouraged from responding. Goals in life include learning a new language, traveling through Africa, owning a neon purple motorbike, living on the water and dying by misadventure. If a SWM or LIFE should be interested you can reply care of this publication. The author of this ad looks forward to hearing from you, but not overanxiously, as she does not want to appear desperate or too willing.

Happy Halloween!

Happiness... is a warm gun, mama.

So much can happen in a few short days sometimes. Other days drag by slowly, but oh no, not on this bank holiday weekend. It all started while I sat curled up on the couch in the living room, typing away. The door opened and I could hear voices then Ryan opened the door and said, "do you want to meet our friends?". Yes, dear readers, the boys have friends, these particular friends being from Derry. No, I couldn't understand them most of the time. Still, the boys were excited to have their friends around, and it was pretty amusing to see them hungover the next morning, then head out to go fishing, yes fishing, and come back and attempt to prepard and eat the "catch of the day". The house smelled like fish for two days. Yuck.

Yesterday threatened rain and turned cold. I was feeling pretty stressed because I hadn't been as productive as I wanted to be, but to take a break from writing a book review (that he changed his mind and didn't even ask us to turn in), I went to the bookshop to pick up some books for class. On my way there, I popped into a little dress shop that sells the coolest looking clothes (and hats). This place is right up my alley, except for the price tag. So, when the American woman and her daughter asked for directions to the city museum and the cashier fumbled, I offered to walk them there myself. I was going that way anyway. Turns out, it was a family from Florida on vacation. Karen was the mother's name and I don't remember the name of her husband, but they had two kids. It was the dad's birthday and they're from St. Augustine. So that was a nice detour. I headed on to the shop and only found one required reading, BUT I also found a book about irish women journalists from 1969-1981. YES. This may work its way into a non-fiction or women's writing project. I'm pretty excited about it.

When I got back to the house, the boys were heading out to buy firewood and a pumpkin. So they built a fire and brought me a pumpkin to carve. I was so excited! Such great roommates! It was a lovely evening with the three of us working away at projects (Kasha was over at Colm's) and then Noel went to get more firewood. This is when we discovered that the outside pane of our glass door had cracked in tiny little pieces. Fantastic. Bertie is currently in the States for a wedding, so...yeah. The door looks sort of cool, but we're definitely not using it.

This brings us to today, which was dreary and rainy from the moment I woke up. Yuck. But, I got FOUR letters in the mail today (thanks Maw Maw, Louise, Sheree and Danielle!) and the rain stopped long enough for me to walk to campus. Excellent. So, I returned my library books, picked up the second required reading (the one I didn't find in town yesterday) and bought myself an almond latte. The barista there is really nice, but she can't hear me. She never hears me say almond and I always feel so bad for having to repeat myself. I also really like the almond latte because they always put AL on the cup, and have no idea those are my initials, and it's a bit of silliness to brighten the day. Today, however, I was also thirsty for something cool, so I went to the vending machine for another splurge, a coke (I haven' t had one in weeks). The machine was broken. No worries, I thought to myself, I just run back downstairs and go to the vending machine there. That machine didn't work either. Conspiracy! Just beside the coke machine, there is a water and Powerade machine. I only had enough change with me to buy a Powerade (which I haven't had since high school when there was a machine outside the back doors of the gym), so of course, I chose the blue one (berry and tropical fruit flavor). Out popped not one, but TWO Powerades (the second one was orange). This I took as a sign and I scooped them both up and headed to class to talk about Marilynne Robinson, plot and landscape. Now, here I am, listening to my cool new Acoustic France cd (thanks Danielle!) and preparing to read more poetry criticism. And eat. Let's not forget that. Kasha brought home cake :)

Two Posts in One Day?! Yes, yes the apocalypse is coming...

Okay, this is my last post for a few days. For the record, the second post isn't a practice in procrastinating. I've finished my poem from another poem. Now, this poem will be cut up, line by line and transformed into another poem mixed with elements from poems written by other people in class. So, before it got chopped, I wanted to share it, as I was inspired by all the football posts this evening. Hope you like it!

Happiness (homage to Giles County)

four seasons, not the hotel

starting with apple cider and hot chocolate

girls in jeans and letterman's jackets
while the boys take the field in shoulder pads

then comes the snow, two hour delays

painting your nails and curling your hair

ringlets that fall before the first bell rings
softball practice begins before the thaw
breaking your arm before Disneyland but after Prom, thank God

summertime and the living would be easy

if only you could tan and he would pick you up

meeting everyone else, lazy days at the river

learning to fly, free falling into growing up

understanding you're still in high school, just older

longer days, shorter vacations, wider hips

paying eighty dollars to see Tom Petty and pretend

you're still in college and your beer is free

except you're not and suddenly you're salaried

meeting up with girlfriends at kid friendly restaurants

and giving money to the little leaguers

buying boy scout popcorn and PTA chocolate

never missing a Sunday to visit your mother

talk baseball with your dad, politics with your brother

falling in love, serious this time

whether you want it to be or not, this knowing

everyone else's business but somehow relishing

all four seasons, not the hotel

Mission Statement/Mission Impossible?

It's cold and wet. Again. I feel as though I'm truly preparing myself for a life in the Pacific Northwest, should I ever want to go back. Also, it's Friday and I've decided that since I have a 3 day weekend, I should probably stop slacking and actually write a legitimate blog post. This is also a good reason to procrastinate a little more.

On the agenda this weekend (schoolwise): a completed response to the Writer's Workshop yesterday on Reviewing which means I'll be attempting to write a comedic short story about an author meeting a reviewer who hates the author's work. Typical plot, I know, but I want to try something funny. THEN, I'll attempt once again to write a poem from another poem, this one on happiness or celebration. It doesn't sound hard, but when you try to write it from another poem, holy cow. Not so fun anymore. After this I will write a review on a book I haven't written and discuss my strengths and weaknesses and then continue to write a piece stemming from an art exhibit that scared the bejesus out of me yesterday. To explain: the effect of multiple projectors in a darkened room playing silent film and photographs is creepy. When you put two t.v.'s at each end of the exhibit and the sound suddenly turns on without warning, that's terrifying. Especially when you're the only person there at 3 in the afternoon and it's drizzling (surprise) outside.

So, those are the more pressing assignments. Somewhere in there, I'll be in the library reading the hardest book of poetry to find ever and also reading criticism for said poems. The girl doing the presentation on this author (Eavan Boland) emailed us some suggested reading and said she was going to focus on the "victimization of women". I love feminist topics. Honestly, I do. Still, I'm going to make myself happy with an almond latte and maybe a scone. Interesting doesn't have to equal depressing, but we're definitely into depressing territory now.

That being said, I full intend to enjoy my weekend, rain or not. Unlike last weekend which was consumed by feeling awful (side note: there's a commercial for a cough syrup that shows the ugliest/cutest mucus thing that continues to attack people, almost like a puppy, it's hilarious), this weekend is going to be productive. I plan to do some shopping, a little exploring and a LOT of writing. Combine that with Geribody (aka Spice Girl) yoga and you've got yourself Allison in Ireland. Next weekend is Halloween and it looks like most of the friends I've made will be out of town, but never fear! Despite the fact that I have yet to come up with a costume, my early friends, the international kids, will be around, so I'm sure fun will be had. I'm also planning on venturing up to Kylemore Abbey and the Connemara area next weekend to look at gardens and cottages and castles turned to religious purposes. Until then, I'll be baking and eating and studying. Life is good.

Makeover!

Yesterday I got an e-mail from my dear Summer J. Brown. Allison, it said, I've made you a new blog header, if you like it, we'll skype and I'll talk you through the html codes. Well, this conversation basically turned into the usual exchange, with me being hopelessly inept at technology and SJB working her magic without my help. Then, knowing I would never make the blog look any better, she offered a full blog makeover. Ladies and Gents, this is the result of maybe thirty minutes of the talented SJB's time. I hope you enjoy it!

A quick life update

This past weekend and week beginning have been alternatively exciting and uneventful. I did end up going to the Fiction Slam on Friday and reading. I didn't pass out, thank goodness, but my knees were shaking! In fact, a friend from class, the super talented Sarah Griffin won the whole competition and a bottle of wine! All in all, it was a successful night, minus the nose congestion. I walked home and promptly went to bed, feeling pretty rough, but not awful. That came on Saturday. Miserable is the word that comes to mind. The boys had a friend visiting and they made me drink a whiskey and go to bed. Have I mentioned my roommates are awesome?

Anyhow, Sunday was much better, complete with a depressing but compelling book for Irish Women's Literature and... a Hugh Grant chick flick. Notting Hill never gets old. Monday, of course, was poetry class. As usual, it was amazing, even if I couldn't really breathe because my head cold was now a chest cold, but still! Today was fiction and it was more interesting than usual. I always love talking about readings for class, but since it's a fiction workshop, I'd rather we talk about what we're working on, and we almost got there today.

This evening, I made scones with crystallized ginger. I have to say, they're pretty tasty. I may even attempt yoga tonight in my newfound industriousness. I may sound like a man, but I don't feel as bad as I sound. Now, it's off to read a few articles for tomorrow's class!

A Gentleman and A Scholar? To Be Determined

As a special request, I'm writing this blog about my roommate, Ryan. You see, Ryan is paranoid that I spend my entire blog writing about him. In fact, he may even think I write all of my stories about him. So, I'm dedicating this entire blog to dear Ryan Kelly, just so that he can say he's right (he loves being right).

When I first arrived in Ireland, I obviously had no idea what to expect and hoped I would luck out and have great roommates. Clearly, this has been the case(yay Kasha and Noel!), but a special word about Ryan. We call him "The Professor" he's such a serious seeming boy, studying Classics and English. Some mornings, you can find him with his cup of coffee or tea, listening to the news and reading the paper. I mean, what else can you call a twenty year old who reads Plato and Wordsworth and enjoys it AND is up on current events? According to our dear Noel, Ryan doesn't particularly like this, but it's fitting and I think it has a ring to it. Ryan, you'll thank me later in life. In some ways, he reminds me of (brother) Phil because he can be quiet and serious and then joke around, when he wants to, that is.

Our dear Ryan loves his football(soccer) and in fact, has a cousin who's currently playing for the Ireland 19 and Under team. You can hear him sighing in agony over an awful play or letting out yelps of delight when something good happens. You can also find him in the back garden kicking around the soccer ball he stole from the street on any given evening. It's all rather endearing. Just like Phil, you probably should give him space when his team loses. I'm telling you, dear readers, it's like having a little brother around, he even shares his popcorn and makes me tea sometimes. Though he doesn't giggle or call me when he has a joke to share. I do miss that.

Though he may be paranoid, chivalry is not dead in Ireland. It's true, I've called him a mean spirit (and he is when he decides to cease conversation prematurely or scare unsuspecting people in another room, cough cough), but both he and Noel agree that the man should walk closest to the oncoming cars, so they would get hit first instead of the girl. And let's not overlook the fact that they did buy me a Hannah Montana birthday cake, despite the fact that I'm 25 and no one over the age of twelve should ever request a cake like that. So this is just a little appreciation for Professor Ryan Kelly for all of his paranoid, sometimes gruff and well meaning ways. Rest assured, living with these boys (we can't forget Noel, these two are a bromance for the ages), I won't get run over by a car or ever have to go without tea, and I might learn something about football (soccer) while I'm here. They even do the dishes! So is it far to say Ryan Kelly deserves this dedicated blog post? Perhaps so or perhaps not, but it'll make him blush anyhow and to me, that's a job well done :).

A is for Academics

It's definitely a hot chocolate kind of day. A hot beverage of any kind really. Also, I suppose it's technically night here as well. I slept pretty late today and then headed off to class to discuss incestuous rape, contraception and abortion. You know, just a light hearted topic for today's class discussion. We were reading "Down by the River" by Edna O'Brien. It's a really hard book to read and also a hard book to put down. The book is loosely based on the 1992 X Case in Ireland. Really interesting stuff. Edna O'Brien herself is interesting, I'm going to have to read more of her.

In other news, our poetry assignment this week is to write a poem about an animal without giving it human characteristics. Yikes. For fiction we have to take an experimental structure and write a story within that structure. For example, we could use a calendar or letters. I'm going to write a fake biography, complete with fake interviews. At least, I hope. Tomorrow, I have my second meeting with Eva about my poetry. So cross your fingers that it goes well.

This weekend, there's a Fiction Slam at the Spanish Arches. I'm definitely going but I'm not sure if I'm going to read anything. I've never done one before! Either way it should be fun. At the end of the month, Herbie Hancock is going to be at the Cork Jazz Festival, so I just MIGHT check that out. We'll see. For now, I'm off to make that hot chocolate and write!

Yes, I'm Still Alive

I know it's been a week since my last post. I promise nothing that exciting has happened. The first semester is halfway over and it feels like I just got here. There's so much left to be done! And here I wasted my weekend sleeping and doing nothing in particular. We have our second meetings with Eva on Thursday, so that's something to look forward to I hope. This afternoon consists of writing a story for Fiction class, doing a little poetry work and enjoying the sunshine and lack of really strong wind. It might also involve a bit of sleep, cleaning up around the place and cooking dinner. See what I mean about exciting?

Nonetheless, I'm having fun and I'm really glad I'm here (especially when it's not raining). I hope I'm learning something as well. And speaking of that, I'm going to write for class now. I promise adventures will be forthcoming!

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip

Note to self: When traveling somewhere you've never been before, get a map. Also, bring along a snack, just in case. Popcorn doesn't count. When a relative stranger offers to buy a drink, accept gracefully and order food. Never ever accept a second offer of drink before eating food, and especially don't get on a boat afterwards thinking an apple counts as food. It doesn't.

The people on Inis Oirr (Inisheer) are really nice. The island is so small that everyone knows you're not a native but they wave to you anyway (or in the case of one of the men I passed on tractors, shakes his head as he passes you the second time). I woke up early on my Friday off (I love how this works out) and walked into town. As soon as I see the bus to the ferry, rain starts to pour. I mean, this was violent. I duck under an arch and think to myself, "Why didn't I buy an umbrella yesterday and bring my scarf today? I'm going to be miserable." I headed towards the ticket office anyway when the rain let up and got my boarding passes and then waited in line. It rained off and on during the bus ride. Outside it was freezing, I literally shivered as I boarded the ferry. A slightly wild looking man asked if I had a waterproof jacket and looked at me doubtfully. This couldn't be good. Nonetheless, I found a seat and settled in. I like boats and I like water. I don't like being cold, but it wasn't as if we were going to get splashed, we had windows protecting us. And so we started off. The ferry wasn't very crowded. This ferry went to Inis Oirr (the smallest of the islands) and Inis Meain (Inishmaan), the most deserted. Another ferry took those who were going to Inishmor, the largest and most tourist frequented, and I'm sure it was crowded. In fact, I think pretty much the entire bus went to that ferry except for me.

If anyone gets motion sickness, you would have thrown up on the boat ride over. The end of September isn't exactly tourist season because the weather starts to turn towards the winter. The wind is strong and the rains frequent. I felt like I was on one of those carnival rides that swings you up and down and on and on. It was rather fun. After awhile though, it felt like I was being rocked, so I just laid my head on my knees and napped a bit. I woke up to see an old man sitting next to me. He grabbed my arm and asked, "Do you know where you're going?". I said no, I figured I'd just roam around, the island wasn't that large. So he proceeded to tell me where everything was on the island in his curious accent (It sounded more scottish than irish). Then says "So now you know" and walked off. Then the boat landed and I found myself on the island with almost 5 hours to kill.

The first thing I did was buy an apple, a juicebox, a mini bag of popcorn (seriously, if you don't like plain popcorn and cheese and onion chips, you're so screwed), and a bottle of water. Then I set off against the wind, uphill towards a castle I'd seen. I never got there. The entire island is covered in stone fences and the roads are like mazes. After a brief, light shower, the sun came out and the day turned gorgeous. There was a rainbow and then, sunshine. The wind was ridiculous, but what can you expect when you're on an island that you can walk completely around in 3 hours. I don't know where I went, but as I tried to get to the castle, I found myself on the other side of the island. I ran into a girl walking her dogs (a giant black dog and a yippy jack russell looking character) and that was it, for at least an hour or more. I saw a lighthouse and found myself talking to cows and watching the waves beat up against the shoreline. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it. On my way back to the other side of the island, I met a man I'd seen on the ferry coming out of a house. Turns out, his Granna lives there and he was incredibly friendly. He told me to go to the other end of the island (long ways) to see the shipwreck that's in the opening credits of Father Ted. Also, the church next to Granna's house is apparently used in the t.v. series as well. Who knew? So off I went again, I found the ship wreck and also the graveyard (the scottish guy told me about this) with the sunken church in the center. This sounds creepy, but it was my favorite part. I walked down into the Church and sat on part of the stone wall and just, rested, for awhile.

On my way back down the hill, I ran into two people I'd seen on the ferry. Turns out, they were from Boston and heading to the pub. I figured I'd join them since the pub most likely served food and I was getting pretty hungry. Except, I didn't get any food. Instead, my new friend Chris bought everyone a drink. Then, Chris, Holly and I met Margaret. An island local. She bought us another round. There was much talk about the Irish language and Irish music and Christy Moore performing in Killarney in April (apparently, I'm going to this). Then I had to leave to catch the boat, so off I went, happy to have made new friends.

The old scottish man hugged me when I got back on the boat. I ate an apple before boarding and hoped it would soak up the beer. This didn't happen. Still, I sat on the top of the ferry all the way to Inis Meain enjoying the salt, the sun and wind. The second part of the journey was longer and I found myself wishing I had a loaf of bread or something as I nestled down in my seat below. I fell asleep and woke up to find that the mainland was freezing and I still felt a little boat sick. The bus ride back was mainly quiet and I decided I'd splurge on a cab to get home, especially since I'd spent 3 euro the entire day, a journey day no less! I met a pleasant lady from Vancouver on the bus and we talked about islands for the rest of the trip. When we were leaving, a french guy woke up from his nap and asked if I knew where we were. "Is this the end?", he asked.

I walked up the row of cabs until a found one with an older man as a driver. Without thinking, I said "Would you like to take me home?" to which he laughed and said "If only this were 40 years ago!" My cab driver was a former fisherman and he told me that winter is indeed on its way quickly. He knows these things. He's studied the weather for years. He also knew a shortcut home, cutting an 8 to 10 euro trip down to 6. SIX! He asked about Virginia and West Virginia and I told him the 460 East joke. That got a chuckle. All in all, I'd say my day trip was a success. I drowned my stuffy nose in pizza and curled up in my blankets and fell asleep. I woke up today thinking there was a kitten in our house and ended up cleaning my room and sending in Monday's assignments for class. I also bought some vitamins (well vitamin c and zinc) tablets. I'd say today was a success too. Now I'm off to clean the kitchen. I hope.

"There are babies doing Riverdance in the street!"

I went out last night. This morning (afternoon), I immediately felt guilty and set about doing some work quietly in my room. I work well this way, right during the waking hours, before anyone knows I'm awake. I could hear Kasha downstairs banging pots and cooking something and she called up Good Morning to me. Little did I know that downstairs, they were laughing about how hungover I must be. Twice they called up to say there was breakfast if I wanted it. I didn't particularly, I don't like to break my rhythm when I'm working. Apparently, this was not the right response, and in comes Kasha with a tray of pancakes, strawberries, blueberries and cream. Her theory was that hungover or not, I must eat breakfast. I gave her a surprised look and told her I felt fine, I wasn't sick at all, I was just working. I have a lot to do. Either way, I got breakfast in bed.

As I mentioned, I went out last night. First, I met up with my friend Anna and her Galway friend ( I can't remember his name, yikes) at a bar called Tig Coili. We had a beer outside and afterwards they headed to the Roisin Dubh to see a band play, while I headed off to meet our other friend Helen. Helen had a friend visiting her this weekend named Claire. They were at The Blue Note, so I went off in search of this venue. I knew exactly what the place looked like, but unfortunately, I can't tell my right from left and ended up taking a wrong turn and taking forever to show up. Regardless, I found my way and we sat talking and drinking some really girly beer/wine cooler thing until the bar closed. Now, in Ireland, there are apparently two closing times, depending on where you are. So we headed out in search of our friend Kate, who was at Cuba. But upon arrival, we took one look at the door and thought, there is no way we're going inside that place. For those of you familiar with Blacksburg, think TOTS meets Sharkeys with a twist of Abella. No thank you. So we found a table at a neighboring "club" and watched all the crazies from the window. This is how we saw the old lady walking to her car at 2 a.m. When I say old, I mean this woman was pushing at least 70, if not more. She had a cane I think. I want to be her friend. Here we were, three girls in our twenties, yawning and thinking "Why are we still awake?" and this lady is showing no signs of wear. Seeing this deemed the evening a success and shortly afterwards, we left to go dodge the boys laying on the sidewalk and girls without pants and hardly any tops and made our way safely home. Earlier in the day, Helen, Anna and I went to a book launch for Rita Ann Higgins' "Hurting God" (which sounds really great from what she read to us), so I feel as though the weekend evened itself out.

Now I'm listening to quite possibly one of my favorite albums of all-time, The Stranger (thanks, Mom). Oh Billy Joel, I do love you. I'm working on one of my multiple fiction assignments and singing along to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant". The sky outside is grey and menacing, there's been a chill in the air all weekend. Gaggles of birds keep swarming to the trees outside my window. Tomorrow I must go wait in line at the immigration office, then rush to poetry class, hopefully with immigration card in hand. Afterwards, if all goes well, I'll head to town to get my PPS number (my Irish Social Security number essentially) paperwork started. Gah. I can't wait until all of this technical/official stuff is taken care of and I can just worry about when I can have my next cup of tea. Oh life, why must you get in the way of fun? Still, no matter what, I've got Billy Joel and homework to keep me entertained. I've just got to "get it right the first time, that's the main thing". I couldn't resist ;).

A Revelation (among other things)

I think I might love poetry. I severely undervalue it and the writers, the poets. Why have I come to this conclusion? This week I've been completely bombarded with all things poetry. Monday was poetry workshop, last night we met at our instructors house for wine and poetry, today the writer's workshop speaker was a poet. Poetry Poetry Poetry. I love poetry. This is strange for me to say because I've always valued fiction and prose so much, but the way poetry makes me feel, the aftermath of all of this, is just complete happiness.

Last night, our poetry class met at our instructor's house for wine and poetry. This was the cap of my day that involved Irish Women's Writing and then roaming the streets of Galway. After a rousing discussion of the Troubles and how Elizabeth Bowen represented that in her novel, where the girl doing her presentation printed out a background specifically for me (Bowen had written an introduction for American readers especially and the girl had thought of me, aww!) and after being told by one girl in the class that I wouldn't really understand because I wasn't Irish (I don't think she meant it the way it sounded), I headed into town to kill some time before our social evening. I ran into Lisa and Sarah, two girls from my Writing course and they invited me over to their apartment so we could all walk over together.

That settled, I went in search of food (I'm always searching for food). I found a little pizza place on a side street and walked in. Instantly I thought to myself "I've been here before". A girl and a guy were working there and really having a great time. When I went to pay, I asked the guy if this particular shop had always been a pizza place. No, they'd opened in January. A girl behind me said, "It used to be a sandwich and smoothie shop". Diane Kanter, this is the same shop where we ordered our delicious bagel sandwiches five years ago. How interesting! With that, I headed off to Sarah and Lisa's fantastic apartment that is guarded by a bright blue gate. Off we went to Eva's house which was just up the road and absolutely fantastic. We spent the evening drinking wine, eating roasted pecans (yum!) and talking and reading poetry. Afterwards, some of the girls went to the Roisin Dubh for after wine drinks. I ended up talking to this really ridiculous guy with an even more ridiculous mustache, but at least it was amusing. I'm not sure he got my jokes, or if he realized that he was the joke, but oh well.

Today I had my one on one meeting with Eva about my poetry and it went really well. She's so helpful and encouraging. We went over some poetry that I'd written outside of class, before I got to Ireland. She liked things about all of them, but I'm going to post the one she described as "complete". I actually started writing this one day while sitting under a tree outside of the Media Arts Building in Blacksburg.

Tuesday Morning in May

Wake up sugar.

I pranced upon the bed

over and around you

to watch the crystals

float with the breeze

and see the sprinkles

sparkle from my fingers

into the air in the sun

Wake up Wake up

This is no confectioner's dream

You ask how I expect

to clean up this mess I've made

my mess, sweet sweet mess

The birds through the window

made me happy

The light was just so

soft oh so soft

Wake up from those linen sheets

There are diamonds in the lake

Jewels on the clothesline

and gold in the hills

Come sugar.

Come with me and we will

lie amongst the columbine

wearing lady slippers

and have tea with the hollyhock

adorned with Queen Anne's lace

Oh sugar, sugar, sugar

Wake up.

The Writer's Workshop was today as well. Our speaker was Moya Cannon, a poet and member of Aosdana. Aosdana is an organization of artists in Ireland. Membership is limited to 250 artists and is apparently a really great honor. Eva Bourke is also a member. Moya read from her collection of poems and then we had a question and answer portion which really turned into a discussion. It was so natural. One poem she read was called "Driving Back over the Blue Ridge". It turns out that Moya spent some time in Lynchburg five years ago at the Virginia Center for Creative Arts. I'll have to find the poem and post it. It really was beautiful. After the workshop, we generally have a drink or tea with the speaker, and we chatted a little bit about Virginia and North Carolina. Deirdre, a woman in our course, is from Chapel Hill and so it was really nice and felt great to fall into a conversation with someone who's so respected. I left there feeling elated over the days events. Which brings me back to my opening statement. I love poetry. On the way home, I ran into a woman and her dog. I had seen them this morning and had said hello, which is normal. She had seemed very open this morning (or afternoon really) and I think it set the tone for the day. She was speaking to an old man on the street and I stopped to pet the dog and say hello again. It was the type of exchange you have with a neighbor and it was so nice and I walked home the rest of the way feeling that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, especially when the horse near my house looked up and trotted over to say hello. This must be a good omen for the weekend.

Pink Socks and Patrick Swayze

It was bound to happen. I've been doing laundry for ages and to my knowledge I've never turned anything pink. Until now. This morning (and it was morning for once), I woke up and decided I needed to do laundry. So in went everything, including a scarf that I can't recall washing before. I spilled some chai on it last week and didn't think much about it as I shoved the multicolored strip of cloth into the washer. An hour later, I pulled out a pink t-shirt with white flowers on it. Except that this t-shirt wasn't pink when I woke up this morning. It looks surprisingly natural. The white socks also in the washer, not so much. So starts my Wednesday.

It was pouring rain this morning, but I think it's cleared up for now. I'm not sure if I should go to campus early or just pray it doesn't rain on my walk over. I've been trying to be responsible this morning. Except the Immigration Office isn't open to the public this week. Fail. 7:30 on Monday it will have to be, and probably Tuesday too. I could blame Bank of America for holding me up, but I won't say that outright, that seems too obvious. Today is Irish Women's Writing and we read "The Last September" for this week. I have to say, I like "The Real Charlotte" better. I was so convinced I would love this book too, and while I don't hate it, it's not my favorite. The class should be fun though. Then it's off to buy wine or treats to bring to our Poetry Gathering this evening. The boys made fun of me and poetry in general when they discovered this bit of information. This was after Kasha locked Ryan in his room and we danced to "Time of My Life" waving scarves around. Noel was scarred, but only after we showed him the beginning of "Cool as Ice" starring the one and only Vanilla Ice. I am so good at procrastinating. Hence, my responsible morning today.

Yesterday was Fiction class and I wanted to share a couple great lines from our instructor Mike McCormack.

"You Americans must be careful and be sure to eat well. The damp months, February and January have you all sniffling and sneezing." - Great.

"I have a loathing of boiled eggs. Food in hell." - this ones for you, SJB.

"This is where my skill fails me. I have to put a cloak on her and I can't." - In an effort to explain how stories sometimes rise from images, he grabbed some chalk and began drawing stick figures. This is where he stopped. All in all, it was a successful class.

So today begins another round of praying I don't forget anything and make it through another class and social setting. At the moment my stomach is calling, so I'm going to go feed it.

Mondays are for Winners

I have to confess something. The first day I walked to school, I passed by a Monument shop. Yes, gravestones. There is a little work yard with a fence that opens to the street. That first day I passed by and looked over where a man was working on polishing (I think?) a gravestone. He looked up and I thought "Hello, Ireland". Seriously, he looked almost exactly like the guy from "Leap Year" except the chances of him actually being Irish are significantly higher than Hollywood casting an Irish actor for an Irish part. But that's not the point. Everyday, before I found my awesome shortcut through the field to campus, I'd pass by, hoping to see him. All I found were old men. I figured, he's gone back to school or something or another. Maybe he didn't exist. BUT, I'm here today to tell you, he does. What does this mean? Absolutely nothing, but it does mean that walks in to town will now hold that special element of anticipation held dear by most middle schoolers of the world.

That was on my way home this afternoon. I had been to the cafe with some friends (yay! friends!) from class. This particular cafe had originally been the home of the owner's grandmother. It's located on Shop Street, where there are no houses (at least not anymore), so the shy brother told us they'd refitted it for a shop, but they still live upstairs. He then left when the other brother, the owner came back. I like the shy brother the best. Still, it's a really nice little place and I think I might just go back. While sitting there chatting we witnessed the following: a girl hopping backwards and almost falling, and a boy who just up and kicked a pigeon right outside the window where we sat! I gave him my best "Who do you think you are, you stupid brat" look, but it was wasted on his friends. I can only hope they adequately relayed the message.

Poetry class was really amazing again today. The theme this week was childhood, next week is love. We have some absolutely wonderful writers in this class (I'm sure we do in our other classes, but we definitely workshop a lot more in this class so far). Individual meetings with our professor are this week as well as a gathering at her house. We're going to drink wine and talk about poetry. Seriously, I don't know how I got this life, but I love it. Tonight, I may meet up with some of the people in my class to write at a pub in town. For now, I'm going to go ahead and write on my own and see where it gets me. You know, just in case.

Some Observations

As I was walking home in the rain today, well throughout the day really, I stockpiled some observations I've made since arriving in Ireland.

1) the girls don't wear pants here. No, seriously, they don't. It's all leggings and really tight skinny jeans. I'm going to have to buy men's jeans if I ever need another pair. I want to post signs sayings tights and leggings are not pants. please put on a skirt or some trousers.

2) tk/tj maxx is globally amazing.

3) subway smells the same no matter where you go. american quiznos reigns supreme.

4) the driving on the other side of the road thing should stop. everyone around the world should drive on the same side, I don't care which. it would just make things easier for pedestrians.

5) america depends way too heavily on corn products. now i'm going through withdrawal.

6) farmer's markets seem more authentic when there are piles of unwashed gigantic carrots lying in a wooden bin. not to mention huge wooden tubs of hummus.

7) no matter what, i'm always going to be a sucker for 1 dollar/euro books.

8) It's a good thing I like tea.

That's all for now. I'm gonna head off to write some stories and laze around on this rainy saturday evening.

Have you seen the muffin man?

Brace yourselves. For the second time in as many weeks, I'm baking. This time banana nut bread. Tomorrow I'll take over the world. Things are settling down a bit and the only things I must do today is go to the bank and to Writer's Workshop. I want to bring a few questions in advance, because we're expected to sound somewhat intelligent.

Yesterday was Women's Writing and holy cow, I'm going to love this class. It involves a lot of reading and discussion and it's just great. I just pulled the first muffins out of the oven (we only have a muffin pan) and the majority of them are gone. They must be passable. Success. Take that, metric system!

I just watched Noel attempt to iron a t-shirt. Boys doing domestic chores amuse me. Imagine Phillip ironing and you've got the right visual. Now they're doing laundry, it's all too much. They just left for school after asking me if they could have another muffin. They then explained they're not used to people being nice. I'm not sure if this is a ploy for more muffins or if it's true.

I'm going to get ready for class and fix some lunch and take my daily trek to campus. It's so much more enjoyable when I get to see ponies and various animals along the way. Adventures to come this weekend I hope!

All the Trees Lean Away from the Sea

The wind was really something yesterday. Outside it felt heavenly on your face, but inside it whistled and made you feel like potato soup and cornbread. If I weren't working so hard on procrastinating, I would've gone to the shop for some buttermilk. As it is, I spent the entire night working on a short story. The entire night. Gah. There was some watching of Highlander (don't judge me, it wasn't my idea) scattered through there as well, but for the most part, it was a long night. My routine will get more settled and it won't be so haphazard (at least I hope!).

We had poetry class yesterday and I must say, our instructor Eva Bourke is just simply amazing. The entire class felt like a conversation. There are some really great writers in our course and I can't wait to read what they write all semester. I hope some of that magic rubs off on my work! Anyhow, to prove I do write on occasion and don't just spend my days drinking tea and flirting with old men in the city centre, here's one of my poems from class:

Buffalo Bill's Traveling Show

From the second story

he could see her jumping

But not from the third

she broke her foot once like that

So when she stood there

in her teal ankle rainboots

he only nodded

and said he would catch her

The she flew

like off the high dive at the public pool

Screaming Watch me!

he knew he was in trouble then

There was a flash of color

and he made good on his word

but even the grass was holding a grudge

her boots stayed on

In the kitchen

there was hardly a sound

just a thud

like someone stacking wood

Over her shoulder

she remarked

to no one but the air

those are the ones that lived

Today I've got Fiction. I'm going to like this class, but I do not like my offering for this week. I began at least three different versions of this story, rewrote another version last night and still changed up a few things this morning. We'll see how it goes. After class I've got an interview for a tutoring job, cross your fingers. It'd only be two hours a week, which might work out just perfectly. Ireland's gonna work out just fine, especially if I can figure out a way to sneak away the Chester look-alike puppy from my neighbor. Or convince her that the puppy really needs to hang out with an American girl for a little bit each week. At the moment though, I think I'm going to eat some lunch and read for my class tomorrow (Women's Writing, yes!). Hope to hear from you all soon!

Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home

This afternoon, I felt whimsical. There's just no other word for it. After a morning of running around trying to get my i.d. card, finding a bookshop that sold the novel I need to read by Wednesday and declaring my courses, I should have been frazzled. But on my way home, going towards the bridge, I noticed a path by the river. So I took it. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the parking lot either. The path went under the bridge, where I passed two fishing rods, a boom box, and below in the water, two boys in a boat. I wound around the corner to the stairs leading up to the bridge and my way home. Now, on one side of the river is the university and on the other is a large field. On my way to school this morning, I thought to myself that I'd like to explore that field, and I wondered where it led. This afternoon, I noticed a boy in a blue shirt with a grey backpack hop over the guard rails onto a small path. So I did what anyone would expect me to do and I followed him.

We walked through the field past an old ruined building with scaffolding in the middle and through the grass onto a tiny road. Then we crossed a red bridge and walked beside a giant whitewashed wall with red paint trim. The wall turned out to be the stadium for Galway United Football Club. I followed this boy past buildings and bed and breakfasts and rock fences and then the grey backpack turned into a row of houses. So I continued alone. I found the cutest little house I’ve seen yet, turned down the wrong road and came back up again. Finally I found the turn to take me home. At the bottom of this road is a hotel and across the street you’ll find a Courtyard Marriott and a gas station. But at the top of the road there is a field with two ponies and blackberries. Then there is a house set back from the road and on the other side of the house is a smaller field with two more ponies. The boys don’t know it yet, but we’re going to feed carrots to the ponies this weekend (Kasha went to London to see Muse in concert). Personally, I think they need a good brushing and if it were up to me, I’d hop the fence and take care of that and help myself to those blackberries. But I also don’t want to get arrested, so we’ll just stick to the treats.

Tonight I plan to do my poetry homework and start reading a novel for Irish Women’s Writing. The rest of the weekend will be spent reading (a lot) and writing. Those are my responsibilities. I know that my classes are going to require a large amount of work and that it’s not going to be easy, but that is my sole responsibility. Reading and writing! I still can’t believe it. No doubt my enthusiasm will calm down in an hour or so, but for now, even though the rain has come back and my legs are screaming at me (I ended up wandering for 3 hours at least), I am content. And I hope, my friends, you are too.

There's no crying in Fiction

I think our fiction professor's exact words were "We're not crybabies here". I sincerely hope not. I'm really excited about fiction! Mike McCormack is our professor and he seems just incredibly passionate about good work and improvement and reading good books. Right up my alley. The class is starting to get more talkative too, which is nice. One woman, named Maire (Myra is how she pronounces it) has been writing in the Irish language for years and is clearly well respected. She's really nice and I think she'll be really interesting to read and to speak with. So I left Fiction elated yesterday and just strolled along the street, not really knowing where I was, but figuring Galway is small enough that it would sort itself out. I found myself near what I thought was a church (and it might be), but then saw a giant sign for a secondary school. The road curved around the Church and seemed to just rest there before stopping and turning abruptly into a long road. So I turned down this road (Preservation Road, I think) and found it to be the prettiest little street I've seen so far. The sun was out and hit the pastel colors of the buildings and it was just amazing. I'll go back there with my camera and try to capture it.

Last night, I got home and spent some time chatting with the boys. I think I might be a little overzealous when I say they're just adorable. They're both 20 (Noel's birthday is today, so he's actually 21) and students at NUIG. Noel is a first year and Ryan's finishing up. Ryan is really into soccer, and it's almost like having two brothers around. Noel plays guitar upstairs while Ryan watches soccer matches on the t.v. and shouts at the players. Last night, we watched a little bit of Jerry Maguire. Today I'm going to attempt to make a birthday cake. We'll see how that goes.

Today is 20th Century Irish Women's Writing. I'm so excited! Ideally, I'd like to end up taking Poetry, Fiction, and Playwriting, because I can only choose three. But Women's Writing just sounds like a great course, so I'm going to check it out today, and who knows? So I'm off to finish my tea and head over to campus!

We're really sorry, we're American.

It's pouring rain. Not just the drizzly little stuff we've had all day for two days, but the kind you can hear on the windowpanes. The kind that makes you want to curl up in the big blue leather chair downstairs with hot tea and the lone soft brown blanket and not move. Ever. Guess it's time to wear my raincoat with the hood.

Sunday night I went with Kasha to see Collum's band play. Mostly, he told me, they do covers. So off we went to the Cellar Bar (I know! I just loved the coincidence!). There are a lot of Americans in Galway. Usually, they're pretty easy to spot, so as I sat down with Kasha with our bottles of Miller (yes, Kasha loves Miller), I spied a large group at the table above us. I'm instantly nervous. These are young looking kids and they've obviously been here awhile. I know a member of the band, I'm sitting there with his girlfriend, surrounding by their Irish friends. The Americans are having a great time. They're dancing and singing along and just being generally rowdy, in a good natured way. Everyone else is intent on their beer or the band (which is pretty good), but there are camera flashes, squeals of delight and drunken love flowing around this table. I'm highly amused. This was probably me not so long ago, and they all look like they're twelve. Eventually, the loudest of the girls turns around, looks at me and Kasha and says "We're really sorry! We're American!" then goes back to her antics.

I was slightly pleased, but disconcerted. I thought I looked pretty American, even though I was enjoying myself quietly. But before I could start to brood, there was a familiar opening riff, and Amanda Bishop, I thought of you. Oh yes, there it was, Sweet Child O' Mine. Kasha looked over at me, I guess I had given a whoop of happiness without realizing, and then looked at the other table, who were all out of their seats now and dancing. I just shrugged and said, "We love this song!" and began to sing along.

The next day was the first day of Poetry class. With all poetry classes, I go back and forth about my feelings towards them. One minute I'm fully engrossed, the next I'm thinking, are you kidding me? So it's important to be submerged in Poetry completely, or else you start to think you shouldn't be at one with that tree, or that the candy wrapper on the sidewalk is just trash, and then it's all lost. I think I'll enjoy the class regardless. The professor is very sweet. After class, I had lunch with some of the girls. One girl kept saying, "Oh my god, you just showed up and left all your friends behind, that's brilliant!" and every time she said that I thought "Oh my god, I did, what have I done? Where is my white cheddar popcorn and that awful broken couch of Ryan's?". In fact, the lack of quality junk food is my biggest culture shock. I told this to the girls and the outspoken one turned to the others and said, "You wouldn't believe it, we went to Florida once and went to Wal-Mart, this giant store, like a supermarket, but ridiculous, and any kind of cereal, oh the cereal aisle, any kind you could ever think of, it was there." So that was that, though I was assured Galway was increasingly Americanized, which I can see from the McDonald's and the Quiznos (yes!), the Subways and the Papa John's.

We went to a play last night, called "The Silver Tassie". I have to say, without reservation, one of the best plays I have ever seen. It's right up there with "Grey Gardens". The best part? It was free. It was set in WWII I believe and just really incredible. I laughed, I cried. I also think I made another friend, Danielle from County Mayo. She drove me home last night so I didn't have to walk in the dark. It was late and I was super grateful, Galway's a small city, but a city nonetheless. I hope we'll have some classes together (she's doing her MA in Drama & Theatre).

For now, I'm off to Fiction class in the rain. In other words, dear readers, send tissues and vitamins (I like the gummy kind :)).

Don't sit that way too long, you may get stuck like that.

The house has come alive. From my room I can hear the television downstairs, no doubt being watched by Collum while Kasha cooks dinner. The spices float up the stairs and smell suspiciously like home (she's making meatballs, but the onion is so nice!). In the room next door, Noel and Ryan are talking about something (I can't tell you what, because I can't understand their accents for the life of me). I'm writing and reading alternatively, which isn't really a big change from what I'd be doing in recent or distant memory. I do like this moment.

I slept in late today, began to work, and then changed locations for the next 30 minutes. This transition to student life again is proving to be more difficult than imagined, but I welcome the challenge. Deadlines! Yikes! Finally, I gave up and went out for a walk after chatting with Bertie for a couple of minutes (He came out to get the garden ready for winter, yes, it's only early September). I needed to buy groceries, find a reasonably priced printer, and maybe a couple of basic t-shirts. I found a tiny mall with a Penneys. Now, everyone here keeps telling me how great and cheap Penneys is for clothing, but while it's inexpensive, I didn't see too many fantastic deals. To set a visual, think Goody's before it closed down. racks of clothing put on haphazardly, stacks of once folded shirts just lying in heaps on the shelves. I couldn't handle it, so I left. All the printers I found were ridiculously priced, and the grocery store just wasn't conducive to bargain shopping. So I left the mall and went to Dunnes, the giant store just a 5 minute walk from my house. I didn't find any shirts (apparently the 5 pack white Hanes t-shirt doesn't exist here), but I did get my groceries. I met a lady in the condiment aisle as I was picking out salt. The containers weren't single person sized, so it took me awhile. Then I hear a voice saying, "I've found that one raised my blood pressure, but this one didn't at all. Of course it's more dear, so if you don't have blood pressure problems you could save with the other one."

From there started the awkward conversation between me and the Irish. I guess they don't realize I'm American until I speak, and I'm not sure they understand me half the time. But she was really sweet. So I bought the massive salt container that's sure to raise my blood pressure because it was a good .75 cents/euros cheaper. I'll probably never finish the whole thing. Then I haggled for a printer, a PRINTER. I could use the university services and pay for my copies, but the amount of printing I'm going to have to do just doesn't seem feasible to print out while I sit in a chair at the student library. I carried my new printer and my bag of groceries home, slightly dejected and focused on the new muscles I'm using. Then I compared prices at Wal-Mart and Target. They weren't any better. In fact, I did the best I could and came out fairly well. So with the help of plain potato chips and Coca Cola, I perked up considerably.

So, after meeting Noel and his mother and aunt (in my zebra pj pants, OH YEAH!), and cuddling in the giant armchair under a blanket and scaring both Collum and Kasha (who said I looked like a small kid, curled up like that), I'm writing this post to you from my cosy little room in Tirellan Heights. I know the posts aren't nearly as exciting as expected , but I promise there will be adventures if you're patient enough.

I'm SO excited! I'm so...so... scaaared.

That's right, I feel a little like Jessie Spano minus the caffeine pill addiction. Today was our first department meeting and while going through the class offerings, I was so excited I could hardly keep still. Adrian Frazier is the Director of the program, and for those of you from JMU, he reminds me a bit of Roger Hall. They both have this sort of assured arrogance about them, but you can't help but like them, because the arrogance I speak of is dodgy and flits in and out of view.

There are very few of us. Three Americans, one Albanian, and the rest are Irish (I think, I didn't get to speak to everyone today). We met two of the professors outside of Adrian. The first was Eva Bourke, who runs the Poetry workshop. She's very soft spoken and seems to live in a different atmosphere. I think I'm going to really enjoy her. Today she said, "We have to be careful with one another in a poetry course" and it really struck me and I thought it was quite nice and so true. We have an assignment this weekend to write down things that strike us, snippets and whatnot.

We also met Mike McCormack, who teaches the Fiction workshop. He might be a bit more direct in advising, but how do I know at this early stage? He gave us assignments as well, 200 words each on our favorite album, movie and book. We also have a reading assignment of two novels. Conveniently, this is how I've made a new friend and classmate. Anna from Baltimore went with me to discover Galway's bookshops, so we each bought one novel, will read it, then switch with the other. On top of all these things, we must submit an autobiography of ourselves as writers, a total of 600 words. So guess how I'll be spending my Saturday? I must confess, I'm really looking forward to it. I might even cook (gasp!) of course, that means I'll have to buy something other than pasta...

After school, the meet and greet and finding pretty much all the bookshops in the city, Anna and I met up with my new international friends and walked down to Galway Bay. It's a fishing village and very picturesque at points, where others are... not so much. You have the multi-colored buildings lining the street and the sometimes more colorful boats bobbing around in the docks, and then you see a sign about some sort of contamination on the north side of the green. So we stay on the south side and walk down to a small beach full of shells and shards of glass bottles. Two boys were putting up a tent in this unlikely place, a man was drinking from an unidentified bottle while slumped up against a wall and there was a girl in a bikini sunbathing. She even went in the water! Now, as I type this, I'm sure you're all thinking, holy crap, it's so cold over there! My friends, I got sunburned, in IRELAND, today. It's been sunny the whole time I've been over here. I'm assured that it will rain tomorrow though. We'll see.

This evening, we went out to the pubs. Or pub, rather. We got invited to one place that was doing an 80's night by some very eager Irish boys. We declined and went to another with live traditional music. It was dark, full of old men and fantastic. After a pint, we headed home and passed by a Papa John's that sold hamburgers, yes, hamburgers. There must be some mistake. I will investigate this further through my travels. But, as I'm safe and sound now and it's very late, I believe I'll start a reading assignment and go to bed.

Are you American? Oh good, I can't understand the Irish.

I feel as though there is too much to report back home about! So I began to write, then I took a nap, and erased everything once I woke up. I guess the best thing to do is to begin at home, my new one for the moment.

I took the bus from Shannon to Galway and slept a bit of the way. However, I did see some of the cutest little towns along the way, including rock walls. Literal rock walls, GIANT rocks, no mortar or anything. Lots of horses, sheep and cattle and Johnny Walsh's bar.

Bertie picked me up in Galway and drove me to the house on the other side of town. Galway isn't really a large city, though I haven't explored it thoroughly yet. Anyhow, there was a bit of traffic and so I got a lesson in reading license plates. the first two numbers are the year the car was made, then the city where it's registered is listed, then i think just random numbers, I can't remember. So mine would be 03 NT DMDQN17, but not personalized, haha. It's been fun guessing the towns that I'm not familiar with (G for Galway, D for Dublin, C for Cork, the smaller cities have the first and last letter). I know that sounds really nerdy to include on a blog, but I think it's fun, so there.

The house is really the equivalent of a townhouse. And smaller as to be expected. My room is the tiniest of all of them. Possibly the size of the bathroom. It fits my twin bed, a set of 3 drawers and a small wardrobe. I have a chair in the corner, but use it as my desk for now. A lap desk would be ideal, haha. But seeing as how my things don't really fill the room up, it's just the right size. There is a garden out back with a picnic table, a defunct basketball hoop, a weird clothesline thing, and two propane tanks. Plus one large pink hydrangea and other assorted plants. Bertie explained "I put the things in and these are the ones that lived."

I will have three roommates, two boys and one girl, but the boys haven't arrived yet. They must be brothers, and they're from Derry. The girl, Kasha, is from Poland but has been in Ireland for 5 years and spent some time in Wisconsin (?!) before that. She sounds Irish, but doesn't talk as fast. I like her and think we'll get along really well. She works at a clothing shop in town, Monsoon. Apparently Monsoon is very popular in England and VERY expensive, so I don't think I'll be sporting their designs anytime soon! Kasha dates Collum, Bertie's nephew. Collum's in a band and really nice as well. Also, we have an electric shower. It's awesome. You push a button and the water comes on, push it off, and it goes off, very neat! There's also a National School in our neighborhood, literally four houses down. I met a little girl this morning who thought I was a new teacher. The schools here are very small and look more like houses than schools.

Today was MY first day of school, sort of. International Student Orientation. For those of you in Blacksburg and/or Houston, guess what? The first person to introduce himself was ITALIAN. However, I didn't meet just Italians. So far I've met Anya and Rebecca from Germany, Carlene from Holland, 2 Italian girls (I forget their names already, yikes!), Fergal from Cork, 3 girls from Buffalo and Matt from St. Marys, PA. Matt will apparently be singing "Like A Virgin" at karoake night tonight. I may or may not attend. It's a 30 minute walk in the dark both ways.

And that brings me to the walking. If I'm not in better shape by even Christmas, I'm useless. It's not a bad walk, but there is a bit of a hill involved and let's face it. When do I walk anywhere for that long, twice a day? So, Mom and Summer J. Brown, be proud.

So that was today. We had a man speak about the library today that sounded exactly like Professor Snape. I feel a bit like an undergrad again with all the stuff that I could become involved in. I know I won't be able to do a giant amount, that's reserved for writing, but I definitely want to volunteer somewhere, and take some Irish classes if I can. For now, I'm going to cook up a bit of dinner and prepare for my department meeting tomorrow. I'm really excited about this! Wish me luck!