Not sure how to wrap up the last few days, I should have blogged better. I got into Spain and into Santiago just fine. During the 30 hours that was the trip, there is a lot of time to worry and think of the what ifs. What if I dont get in? What if they ask about the UK stamp in my passport, the one with the giant X through it? What if I get in but the ryanair flight I bought is only for Europeans OR the boarding pass I had Ania print me in Poland doesnt work because ITS IN POLISH? And if all of these work out, what if Iria isnt at the airport to pick me up? What do I do then?
Needless to say, I got in, got the ryanair flight and Iria was at the airport. I live in As Pontes, its a small town almost near A Coruna. We eat fish twice a day. I dont eat fish but have always said that I would eat what was put in front of me when a guest in someones house, and so I have. I am not picky, I´ll eat just about anything...or so I thought.
July in Spain is chalk full of festivals. San Juan is very cool, giant bonfires that burn all night long. Smaller fires are built for people to jump over, to cleanse people of evil spirits. San Juan is on June 25 (I think) the shortest night of the year. Beaches are full of people and their fires and you can always hear bagpipes(gaita). The next night was another festival for some catholic saint. We drove to Carlos´ brothers house, a dairy farm. It was amazing, the houses are all 100 plus years old, made of stone with slate roofs. Its incredible how similar their family is to mine in different ways but maybe everyone has that Uncle, the one that pokes and tickles, the trickster, the jokester. Everyone has the aunts who cook and dote on kids, and the grandmother with the plate of desserts who sends you home with Kinder Bueno bars. (score! these are my favorite candy bars, discovered in Ireland and not available in US) At the dinner table I dont know what is being said, but I laugh when others laugh, nod and look at speakers as if I totally understand. Anything said to me recieves the 'Si' response because thats all I can offer.
Carlos tells Cruz the story of how he asked me 'Would you like coffee?'
Everything said among family is spoken in the regional language of Galician, its a mix of Portugese and Spanish and I cannot understand.
I love that alcohol is always present but rarely drank. Carlos always drinks nonalcoholic beer and although white wine was on the table, everyone opted for water or Fanta. The only time I saw people drink was a little before lunch, and after dinner the my age kids drank before we went dancing at the fiesta. By the way, the boys know how to dance. Tengo and salsa kinda dance. Cruz, Iria and Dani's mother says all country boys know how to dance because its the only way to hang out with girls. And in the country there are many little festivals and fiestas and the boys have to know how to dance, at least the pasodoble, the regional two step. Carlos is a 50 year old country boy, always dancing.
With the help of Iria, I talked tractors with the cousins which was fun. They prefer John Deere, but I saw the neighbors bailing with Massey Ferg and I about spazzed. I´ve asked if I could come live and work on the dairy and they said they´d be happy to have me, so maybe this is where I´m bound after graduation. Must learn spanish. I´m learning a lot already, I´d love to be fluent. Iria and Dani often ask the difference between tough words like bitch and beach, shit and sheet, beer, bear and bird. Yesterday Iria asked me the difference in ´me too´ and ´so do I´ that was a tough one I had to think about.
Dani is 15 and loves to quote the Simpsons. He has taken to the phrase SHUT UP, after I corrected his ´SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH´. Sure wish I didnt teach him that because now he says it, and when I told him it was mean he says, ¨`Its a yoke! I am a yoker!¨`
Monday, June 27, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Cant Go Back Now--The Weepies
The Weepies say "You cant go back now." I've always thought that phrase to simply be opinion. Theres always a way and I was going to find it no matter what it took...until tonight.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Brad Paisley- American Saturday
After days of constant thought, I've come to my decision: I'm not attempting Ireland. I cant part with 5oo dollars I dont have for the chance to get in.
Theres a side that says take your chance, you said you'd come so do whatever you have to get there. That side of me wants to show up unannounced, suprise all those I'm going to see. I dream of that image, I always have. That was before Tuesdays flight jumped from $344 to $502. I cant do it.
I've a good job here and the opportunity to pay all my debts and more. The opportunity to finish up a couple online classes, lesson plans for next fall and the PeaceCorp. application. I'd be here for Clara and Darrens wedding. The sisters first babyshower. Italian Fest. The Indy 500. Garrett running in nationals. Fiddlers and Bean Blossum music festivals.
As I came back to the Coop, I remembered how much I love campus in the summer. Its HOT, you can wear pants, you're forced into lovely little sun dresses that you've missed all year. They're yellow and floral and match flip flops and big sunglasses. There arent people everywhere and the streets arent lined with cars.
And even as much as I love all of these things, I swam in the pool tonight thinking of everyone of these things that I love so much but my concluded thought was this: I've experience all of these things already. They're great and I love them but I have enjoyed them already, and surely there is someother great thing out there that I will love...but I will not/have not experience it yet.
And yes its a lot of money, but what is money in life if you have no stories to tell? You've no experiences.
When on the phone with dad from London he said "Lys, its an experience," (this was a part of the whole 'learning experience' convo) but it was an experience and...I'm just having difficulty letting go.
Every single little thing in my life reminds me of Ireland. Its all I've thought of all semester. When I dumped the contents of my backpack on the floor today, theres my irish cell phone. Tonight at church I noticed the only solitary hole in my jeans, from when I accidentally stabbed myself with an exacto-knife making Jim and Paud's going away presents. I delete Irish friends status updates on my facebook wall. I've taken all Flogging Molly, Drop Kick Murpheys and Christi Moore off my iPod and I hurt everytime I see the Suburu commercial with the little hockey boys in the green jerseys and the Pogues song.
I sound like such a mope. America really is not a bad place to be, I actually love America a lot...theres just a lot to see in the world and I've seen this. I've seen it, I've loved it, I want to see something else.
Theres a side that says take your chance, you said you'd come so do whatever you have to get there. That side of me wants to show up unannounced, suprise all those I'm going to see. I dream of that image, I always have. That was before Tuesdays flight jumped from $344 to $502. I cant do it.
I've a good job here and the opportunity to pay all my debts and more. The opportunity to finish up a couple online classes, lesson plans for next fall and the PeaceCorp. application. I'd be here for Clara and Darrens wedding. The sisters first babyshower. Italian Fest. The Indy 500. Garrett running in nationals. Fiddlers and Bean Blossum music festivals.
As I came back to the Coop, I remembered how much I love campus in the summer. Its HOT, you can wear pants, you're forced into lovely little sun dresses that you've missed all year. They're yellow and floral and match flip flops and big sunglasses. There arent people everywhere and the streets arent lined with cars.
And even as much as I love all of these things, I swam in the pool tonight thinking of everyone of these things that I love so much but my concluded thought was this: I've experience all of these things already. They're great and I love them but I have enjoyed them already, and surely there is someother great thing out there that I will love...but I will not/have not experience it yet.
And yes its a lot of money, but what is money in life if you have no stories to tell? You've no experiences.
When on the phone with dad from London he said "Lys, its an experience," (this was a part of the whole 'learning experience' convo) but it was an experience and...I'm just having difficulty letting go.
Every single little thing in my life reminds me of Ireland. Its all I've thought of all semester. When I dumped the contents of my backpack on the floor today, theres my irish cell phone. Tonight at church I noticed the only solitary hole in my jeans, from when I accidentally stabbed myself with an exacto-knife making Jim and Paud's going away presents. I delete Irish friends status updates on my facebook wall. I've taken all Flogging Molly, Drop Kick Murpheys and Christi Moore off my iPod and I hurt everytime I see the Suburu commercial with the little hockey boys in the green jerseys and the Pogues song.
I sound like such a mope. America really is not a bad place to be, I actually love America a lot...theres just a lot to see in the world and I've seen this. I've seen it, I've loved it, I want to see something else.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Chevelle-The Red
Now is as good a time as any to post on recent happenings. I've neglected and I'm sorry. I've not even journaled since before finals...cant bring myself to it.
Where to begin. Well, I'm in chicago staying with friends I'm blessed to have. How did this come to be? Sounded something like this
Aditya voicemail:"Adi hi, its Alyssa listen I'm stuck in Chicago (voice breaks) Please tell me you're here Adi, call me.
Adi: "Alyssa! Whats up? Whats wrong?"
Me: (Crying) "Its all my fault and I'm so stupid!"
A: "Where are you? What happened?"
Me:"I landed in stupid London and stupid said I was working in Ireland and I didnt have a work permit and they held me for 24 hours and they questioned me and then they sent me home!"*sob*
A: "Alyssa! Its okay! You have a place to stay, you are welcome to stay as long as you need."
So I left thursday. Drama finding my flight because it was with bmi who doesnt even fly out of ORD anymore but apparently bmi means United/Continental. Whateves. I left my only jacket in the van with the only camera. Fine. 7 hours later I land in London, an hour late, missed my connector but that was fine, they were ready with my next ticket that they re-booked. Fabulous. Stopped at flight connections "What are you doing in Ireland." Note, when you go to Au Pair in Ireland (which is apparently against the law) DO NOT say you're working. You're just visiting because really, thats also what I was doing.
So I sit in a detaining facility. And then I sit some more. And no one will talk to me or tell me really whats going on. They're short staffed and everyone you ask says "I DONT KNOW! I DONT KNOW YOUR CASE!" Grand. Thanks. So there was an Indian guy who showed me where drinks and food were and I said "Listen I know you dont know my case, thats FINE! Could you just talk to me please????" And he was real cool. He got real and after I explained my situation he said "Theres 95% your going home. Sorry. Theres nothing you can do." Fab. Great. Thanks. So Ireland was going to reject me, so England could not allow me to go to Ireland because then they'd be responsible for me, and they didnt want that. So then I had to get them to let me into the UK. So I interviewed and told what I would do for 2 months (travel) and how, I had the funds, and multiple friends in the area. I was very nice to everyone and very understanding and patient (not that I had any other option). I told the complete truth during my interview and then she left to tell her boss my situation and 5 hours later she returned with a smile on her face to tell me that I was rejected. I cried hysterically in front of 2 Irani men, 1 Greek and an a young guy from Gambia who gave me a stick of gum. I couldnt stop. I couldnt breath. I couldnt believe it.
It was 10pm. I should have been hanging with Jim Power and Padraic Bacon by now. I was supposed to meet Kate MeGarry at the airport 13 hours ago, did she know where I was? How long did she wait? At midnight they picked me up and took me to the place where I slept. I'm pretty positive it was a jail. The toilet was in the shower. There was no curtain on the window, it hadnt been cleaned from the last person who was held there. I was locked in. I remember lying there crying myself to sleep thinking "eI hope mom is thinking about me, becuase I'm thinking about her." I talked to her the next day and she told me she couldnt sleep because she was so worried. The only other thought while trying to sleep was for some reason about Tyler Reynolds. Kid travels a lot and I thought, Tyler wouldnt be crying if he were here right now. He'd be sleeping. He'd know that he was safe and everything was going to be okay, he wouldnt be crying right now. So why was I crying?
I did have limited communication to home, and Kate. While on the phone with dad he said "Lys- I know this sucks, I know and I'm sorry but Lys...I'm just so happy you're not in Pakistan." Haha, always with the silver lining. But hes absolutely right and I knew it. This wasnt Bridget Jones Diary, I wasnt in Thailand. I was in LONDON, people were okay nice to me. I was given my choice of free beverages and snacks, and for a very hefty price I could call home and friends in Ireland (special thanks to Padraic Bacon who was the first called and first to attempt action). So back to Pakistan. Dad sees the entire thing as a learning experience and hes right. He assured me that we're gonna make this happen and my summer will be saved. Hes there to put up money I know he doesnt have and "it sucks Lys--but its gonna be OKAY".
At 3 in the morning I was picked up and taken back to the airport see because they had to pick me up 5 hours before my 8am flight. Makes sense I'm sure to someone somewhere and thats all that matters. I hadnt eaten anything and drank nothing but water since the flight, Indian guy kept offering but honestly I dont know who could eat during all this. That is until I sat in this last holding room the "Womens room". I knew I was goin home, there was nothing I could do, there was a tv so I sat watching Gaga videos and drinking tea and eating tesco biscuits. 3 rounds of 'em! And yes the whole thing indeed sucked....but I got tea and biscuits and I was almost happy.
So I chilled and got back on the United flight that I came in on, same staff and they remembered me. We talked on the way over and they took pity on me and talked to me throughout the return flight.
I think I want to be a stewardess. When I landed in Chi I talked for a long time to the AerLingus girls who were really great and helped me out, I talked to the boss who called immigration for me. Everyone was willing to help and I appreciate it. But Amir...Amir was with Air Italia and he gave me his number and said he wanted to help and offered to let me stay at his house that night. Also said he knew people and would see what he could do for me...a little creepy but I'm sure he meant well but alas I called Adi.
To see John Dichiara's face when those elevator doors opened!
John is Adi's roomate. Adi's parents were visiting for the weekend so they went to dinner and John and I got deepdish. To be clean. To be home. To be with great company eating great food in a great city, its pretty priceless. I sat in the pizza parlour, late on saturday night people watching and talking to John about poverty in the tropics. I felt good. I felt blessed.
I screwed up, but I was okay.
Where to begin. Well, I'm in chicago staying with friends I'm blessed to have. How did this come to be? Sounded something like this
Aditya voicemail:"Adi hi, its Alyssa listen I'm stuck in Chicago (voice breaks) Please tell me you're here Adi, call me.
Adi: "Alyssa! Whats up? Whats wrong?"
Me: (Crying) "Its all my fault and I'm so stupid!"
A: "Where are you? What happened?"
Me:"I landed in stupid London and stupid said I was working in Ireland and I didnt have a work permit and they held me for 24 hours and they questioned me and then they sent me home!"*sob*
A: "Alyssa! Its okay! You have a place to stay, you are welcome to stay as long as you need."
So I left thursday. Drama finding my flight because it was with bmi who doesnt even fly out of ORD anymore but apparently bmi means United/Continental. Whateves. I left my only jacket in the van with the only camera. Fine. 7 hours later I land in London, an hour late, missed my connector but that was fine, they were ready with my next ticket that they re-booked. Fabulous. Stopped at flight connections "What are you doing in Ireland." Note, when you go to Au Pair in Ireland (which is apparently against the law) DO NOT say you're working. You're just visiting because really, thats also what I was doing.
So I sit in a detaining facility. And then I sit some more. And no one will talk to me or tell me really whats going on. They're short staffed and everyone you ask says "I DONT KNOW! I DONT KNOW YOUR CASE!" Grand. Thanks. So there was an Indian guy who showed me where drinks and food were and I said "Listen I know you dont know my case, thats FINE! Could you just talk to me please????" And he was real cool. He got real and after I explained my situation he said "Theres 95% your going home. Sorry. Theres nothing you can do." Fab. Great. Thanks. So Ireland was going to reject me, so England could not allow me to go to Ireland because then they'd be responsible for me, and they didnt want that. So then I had to get them to let me into the UK. So I interviewed and told what I would do for 2 months (travel) and how, I had the funds, and multiple friends in the area. I was very nice to everyone and very understanding and patient (not that I had any other option). I told the complete truth during my interview and then she left to tell her boss my situation and 5 hours later she returned with a smile on her face to tell me that I was rejected. I cried hysterically in front of 2 Irani men, 1 Greek and an a young guy from Gambia who gave me a stick of gum. I couldnt stop. I couldnt breath. I couldnt believe it.
It was 10pm. I should have been hanging with Jim Power and Padraic Bacon by now. I was supposed to meet Kate MeGarry at the airport 13 hours ago, did she know where I was? How long did she wait? At midnight they picked me up and took me to the place where I slept. I'm pretty positive it was a jail. The toilet was in the shower. There was no curtain on the window, it hadnt been cleaned from the last person who was held there. I was locked in. I remember lying there crying myself to sleep thinking "eI hope mom is thinking about me, becuase I'm thinking about her." I talked to her the next day and she told me she couldnt sleep because she was so worried. The only other thought while trying to sleep was for some reason about Tyler Reynolds. Kid travels a lot and I thought, Tyler wouldnt be crying if he were here right now. He'd be sleeping. He'd know that he was safe and everything was going to be okay, he wouldnt be crying right now. So why was I crying?
I did have limited communication to home, and Kate. While on the phone with dad he said "Lys- I know this sucks, I know and I'm sorry but Lys...I'm just so happy you're not in Pakistan." Haha, always with the silver lining. But hes absolutely right and I knew it. This wasnt Bridget Jones Diary, I wasnt in Thailand. I was in LONDON, people were okay nice to me. I was given my choice of free beverages and snacks, and for a very hefty price I could call home and friends in Ireland (special thanks to Padraic Bacon who was the first called and first to attempt action). So back to Pakistan. Dad sees the entire thing as a learning experience and hes right. He assured me that we're gonna make this happen and my summer will be saved. Hes there to put up money I know he doesnt have and "it sucks Lys--but its gonna be OKAY".
At 3 in the morning I was picked up and taken back to the airport see because they had to pick me up 5 hours before my 8am flight. Makes sense I'm sure to someone somewhere and thats all that matters. I hadnt eaten anything and drank nothing but water since the flight, Indian guy kept offering but honestly I dont know who could eat during all this. That is until I sat in this last holding room the "Womens room". I knew I was goin home, there was nothing I could do, there was a tv so I sat watching Gaga videos and drinking tea and eating tesco biscuits. 3 rounds of 'em! And yes the whole thing indeed sucked....but I got tea and biscuits and I was almost happy.
So I chilled and got back on the United flight that I came in on, same staff and they remembered me. We talked on the way over and they took pity on me and talked to me throughout the return flight.
I think I want to be a stewardess. When I landed in Chi I talked for a long time to the AerLingus girls who were really great and helped me out, I talked to the boss who called immigration for me. Everyone was willing to help and I appreciate it. But Amir...Amir was with Air Italia and he gave me his number and said he wanted to help and offered to let me stay at his house that night. Also said he knew people and would see what he could do for me...a little creepy but I'm sure he meant well but alas I called Adi.
To see John Dichiara's face when those elevator doors opened!
John is Adi's roomate. Adi's parents were visiting for the weekend so they went to dinner and John and I got deepdish. To be clean. To be home. To be with great company eating great food in a great city, its pretty priceless. I sat in the pizza parlour, late on saturday night people watching and talking to John about poverty in the tropics. I felt good. I felt blessed.
I screwed up, but I was okay.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
22
Today is my birthday, the rents are coming up and bringing Anna. I cant wait to see her. I never see her, Em, or Dan but they are and forever will be my best friends. I was thinking today how amazing it is to have such friends, what makes them so? Time I guess. Love. Understanding. Truth.
Thats not what this post is about.
I know that people who go abroad cant stop talking about their experience. I know its annoying and I am sorry. But honestly, what I tell you is only half of what happened and only a fraction of what I am thinking about ALL THE TIME.
Lately I struggle. Do I go back? An issue I struggled with before I left. I am holding on to something I should let go of. It was one great semester, it came and it went and I cannot go back and do it over and yet I feel I have to try. Sometimes the ways in which I do not fit in here creep back into my mind and I dream of being in the Blackhole with Elaine and Bev. Things are just different.
Last night Sinead (the new UCD exchange) came out to Nine Irish with us. She was so terrified that they would kick her out because all she had to wear were Ugg boots. When I called she said "No seriously, all I have in converse and Uggs, do you really think I'd be let in?" I could not help but to laugh a little, half of our group were in jeans and Ts and Sinead looking fab thought she'd be kicked out. In Dublin, ye would have been. This whole idea brought to my memory the first night I went out in Dublin. Cormac came to pick me up and I wore jeans and a button up flannel and I asked "Do you think this is okay to wear?" But I didnt really ask to get an answer, haha so when he told me all the girls would be in dresses I replied "Oh I think this is fine." (What a dumpy stupid American, I'm-gonna-do-it-my-way idea!) How nieve I was! But this is a prime example of the epic-ness that is the irish ag girls. We walked into the Blackhole and with in (literally) 5 minutes, they had me in a little black dress, heels and accessories. I was thrown clothes and suggestions, hair makeup and we were gone. It didnt occur to me until last night that what they did was out of kindness sure, but it was what needed to be done because I simply would not have been let in.
And so, today I dream of going back. Showing up on Elaines doorstep to suprise her. Bringing a round at the pub with no ones previous knowledge of my being there. Suprise!! I'm back! Now lets be how we were before!! I know it wouldnt be, but if only for a night. If only for my closure.
I just want away from here. I want somewhere new that I've never seen. I want to see people. I want to be scared. That fear of being on your own, getting to new places all by yourself. Last night Sinead was telling me about Galway. I went to Galway with Dad and wasnt very impressed but she tells me its better than Dublin for night life. She tells me of a big rock they jump off of into the ocean. She says "Four year olds do it, its totally safe. I grew up doing it."
She grew up doing it. What did I grow up doing? Chasing trains. Today I chase dreams. I chase pavements. Today I am 22 and as I reflect on my life I am surrounded by blessings that are friends, family, good tea and good church. I've had a blessed life and I feel that I have so much more to do. But should I die at this age, I have led a brilliant life, and I wouldnt redo a second (maybe there are things I would take back, that feels like a different post all its own). I have been blessed with what I feel is an already fulfilled life. I know my God. I am ready to go should I be called. That is peace. That is love. That is joy.
(In the way of my dad) AAAAAAAmen.
Thats not what this post is about.
I know that people who go abroad cant stop talking about their experience. I know its annoying and I am sorry. But honestly, what I tell you is only half of what happened and only a fraction of what I am thinking about ALL THE TIME.
Lately I struggle. Do I go back? An issue I struggled with before I left. I am holding on to something I should let go of. It was one great semester, it came and it went and I cannot go back and do it over and yet I feel I have to try. Sometimes the ways in which I do not fit in here creep back into my mind and I dream of being in the Blackhole with Elaine and Bev. Things are just different.
Last night Sinead (the new UCD exchange) came out to Nine Irish with us. She was so terrified that they would kick her out because all she had to wear were Ugg boots. When I called she said "No seriously, all I have in converse and Uggs, do you really think I'd be let in?" I could not help but to laugh a little, half of our group were in jeans and Ts and Sinead looking fab thought she'd be kicked out. In Dublin, ye would have been. This whole idea brought to my memory the first night I went out in Dublin. Cormac came to pick me up and I wore jeans and a button up flannel and I asked "Do you think this is okay to wear?" But I didnt really ask to get an answer, haha so when he told me all the girls would be in dresses I replied "Oh I think this is fine." (What a dumpy stupid American, I'm-gonna-do-it-my-way idea!) How nieve I was! But this is a prime example of the epic-ness that is the irish ag girls. We walked into the Blackhole and with in (literally) 5 minutes, they had me in a little black dress, heels and accessories. I was thrown clothes and suggestions, hair makeup and we were gone. It didnt occur to me until last night that what they did was out of kindness sure, but it was what needed to be done because I simply would not have been let in.
And so, today I dream of going back. Showing up on Elaines doorstep to suprise her. Bringing a round at the pub with no ones previous knowledge of my being there. Suprise!! I'm back! Now lets be how we were before!! I know it wouldnt be, but if only for a night. If only for my closure.
I just want away from here. I want somewhere new that I've never seen. I want to see people. I want to be scared. That fear of being on your own, getting to new places all by yourself. Last night Sinead was telling me about Galway. I went to Galway with Dad and wasnt very impressed but she tells me its better than Dublin for night life. She tells me of a big rock they jump off of into the ocean. She says "Four year olds do it, its totally safe. I grew up doing it."
She grew up doing it. What did I grow up doing? Chasing trains. Today I chase dreams. I chase pavements. Today I am 22 and as I reflect on my life I am surrounded by blessings that are friends, family, good tea and good church. I've had a blessed life and I feel that I have so much more to do. But should I die at this age, I have led a brilliant life, and I wouldnt redo a second (maybe there are things I would take back, that feels like a different post all its own). I have been blessed with what I feel is an already fulfilled life. I know my God. I am ready to go should I be called. That is peace. That is love. That is joy.
(In the way of my dad) AAAAAAAmen.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
I Will Walk 500 Miles
6:15 in the morning and i cant go back to sleep after taking Hazel te catch her bus to Chicago. The co-op living room is a mess of possessions left behind by the Irish from a life they briefly lived here. A constant reminder that no matter how long I sit in the living room, Jim Power will never again knock on the door. He wont come watch Glee, we will not play basketball.
I sit among hangers, comforters, toiletries, pillows, detergent, an unreal amount of pennies, Hazels assortment of unwanted but gorgeous european clothing, and best and most cherished of all, a UCD Hurling hoodie, hurleys and schlitar (spelled the way Jim says it) and a claddaugh from Paud. Because he is honest to God, the cutest, sweetest man I've ever met in my life. (Except when we're puckin around and he calls me slow.) Theres no denying this accusation Padraig, (or Padre as every white american called you this semester) in fact I went to Vons attempting a different size and the lady behind the counter said that exact same thing. "I loved listening to him talk, I loved his accent. He was so sweet. Such a sweetheart." Have I not said those exact words all semester??? Needless to say, my hormonal self started crying. Crying. In Vons. I left, cried home and am not exchanging the ring. It can form to my hand for all I care.
Haha, just as I begin to think about sleep, which would really be just lying in my bed dreaming of Ireland...skype informs me that irish kids currently home in Ireland have come online. Class timing kids, for the first time ever being 5 hours behind you pays off.
So travel well my Irish besties that I've been blessed to know. Go way. Go way home and love what you have and where you'll always be from.
13 weeks till we shall meet again.
I sit among hangers, comforters, toiletries, pillows, detergent, an unreal amount of pennies, Hazels assortment of unwanted but gorgeous european clothing, and best and most cherished of all, a UCD Hurling hoodie, hurleys and schlitar (spelled the way Jim says it) and a claddaugh from Paud. Because he is honest to God, the cutest, sweetest man I've ever met in my life. (Except when we're puckin around and he calls me slow.) Theres no denying this accusation Padraig, (or Padre as every white american called you this semester) in fact I went to Vons attempting a different size and the lady behind the counter said that exact same thing. "I loved listening to him talk, I loved his accent. He was so sweet. Such a sweetheart." Have I not said those exact words all semester??? Needless to say, my hormonal self started crying. Crying. In Vons. I left, cried home and am not exchanging the ring. It can form to my hand for all I care.
Haha, just as I begin to think about sleep, which would really be just lying in my bed dreaming of Ireland...skype informs me that irish kids currently home in Ireland have come online. Class timing kids, for the first time ever being 5 hours behind you pays off.
So travel well my Irish besties that I've been blessed to know. Go way. Go way home and love what you have and where you'll always be from.
13 weeks till we shall meet again.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Time
What a webbed post 'Time' can be. Remember that time? What time is it? Let me tell you, as I pull the pocket watch hanging round my neck. For this is my new obsession. I've already spent my entire shopping budget on pocketwatch necklaces. Antiquey looking ones because I think they're fabulous. Speaking of fabluous I've just come from the Hookah bar where I've seen the Emma Gray, in town for one night and one night only visiting us from lovely London. She tells me it is gross and smelly there. Remember that time? At camp, summer 2008 when...well honestly we didnt talk about camp. We talked about the now because thats whats interesting.
Walking home smelling like gross, but loving that I went and maybe its the Hookah but I just feel good. Its November and its not cold, I feel good in my skin. Walk through campus at 2 in the morning and tell me its not gorgeous. Maybe its the orange glow of lights. Maybe I'm sentimental. But I feel good here, it took being away and it took a while being back but I am happy I am here and I am happy with the time I've had here. This is mine. In Ireland, we helped Bev moved all her things from her apt to her car at the end of term. We all know that feeling, the sadness to leave school and the pride in being done. There was a sense though, that UCDublin, it wasnt mine, it was Bevs. Bev had countless memories there and friendships she will take through life whereas I had a semesters worth. Purdue is mine, it belongs to me and I to it just as it belonged to my father, my sister, my cousin and my best friends. I still clap everytime I go through the clapping cirlce, I drink from the lion fountain, I sit on the cold stone of the engineering fountain where I've had countless one on one, deep, soul searching talks with friends. I've stood multiple times on the top of the University street parking garage at night and I've spit. This is mine. Good times.
Walking home smelling like gross, but loving that I went and maybe its the Hookah but I just feel good. Its November and its not cold, I feel good in my skin. Walk through campus at 2 in the morning and tell me its not gorgeous. Maybe its the orange glow of lights. Maybe I'm sentimental. But I feel good here, it took being away and it took a while being back but I am happy I am here and I am happy with the time I've had here. This is mine. In Ireland, we helped Bev moved all her things from her apt to her car at the end of term. We all know that feeling, the sadness to leave school and the pride in being done. There was a sense though, that UCDublin, it wasnt mine, it was Bevs. Bev had countless memories there and friendships she will take through life whereas I had a semesters worth. Purdue is mine, it belongs to me and I to it just as it belonged to my father, my sister, my cousin and my best friends. I still clap everytime I go through the clapping cirlce, I drink from the lion fountain, I sit on the cold stone of the engineering fountain where I've had countless one on one, deep, soul searching talks with friends. I've stood multiple times on the top of the University street parking garage at night and I've spit. This is mine. Good times.
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