A Soft Place To Fall

House Dinner

2006-12-14T17:22:00.000-08:00

Exam Week Ramblings

2006-12-14T07:04:00.000-08:00

Well so it's now Thursday of Exam Week and I only have one paper left to write! All my exams are over. I'm done with lectures. Tomorrow Emer leaves for Clare, Co. Galway. Saturday Greg leaves for New Hampshire. Monday I'm going to Cork to meet with Dr. Eibhear Walshe about research involving Kate O'Brien and her response to the overall repression of women that characterised the Irish Free State and the Irish Republic. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I'll be travelling; right now the plans include Galway City Co. Galway, Killarney Co. Kerry, Cahir Co. Tipperary and maybe Dingle in Co. Kerry. So my last week will be busy, for which I'm very grateful. Thankfully both Karl and Amy have decided to stay around most of next week to get some studying done so I won't be coming home to an empty house.

I keep coming back to very conflicted thoughts. I look out my window at the steely grey clouds that seem to cry a keen (yes that's a little poetic and melodramatic). I walk through campus and through puddles with feet and jeans completely soaked. I go to bed stressed every night because I have too much to do and not enough time. I fall asleep knowing that tomorrow is another of the last days with these people with whom I have fallen in love. And yet, despite the fact that it is still raining, despite the fact that my shoes are soaked through and my feet have never been this cold, despite the fact that I am getting tired of making grilled cheeses and just want an enchilada or some chilaquiles, despite all that I know I'm happy here.

But what I've also realised, with the help of a senior English teacher who somehow finds it in his busy schedule of preparing for New Zealand to continue to teach me, that this experience does not diminish my love for anyone, either here or home. Mr. McGowan told me, "You are finding that the heart has an infinite capacity to hold all of those we truly love and share our lives with. It is not an attic room with limited space but an expandable vessel with infinite capacity."

That my friends is the single greatest lesson I could ever have hoped to learn.

Winding Down

2006-12-06T13:07:00.000-08:00

I hate the fact that I'm looking forward, trying to begin wrapping up these relationships and this experience, while I'm still very much trying to experience it and continue to live it and be present to it. It's such an odd existence. While three months most certainly is not enough time to experience and understand what it means to live in Ireland or to be Irish (let alone Polish in Ireland or any other facet of the Irish experience), I have certainly lived here long enough to establish a bond with this place and to develop deep and meaningful relationships with these people. I know there have been plenty of stories about going to the pubs and "going out on the piss" and getting locked and I certainly will look back on those times with fondness, but I will remember more the moments where our house sat down to watch TV and talk over a cup of tea. I'll always remember the length my housemates went to surprise me on my birthday. I'll always remember sitting up and talking with Amy about education and about coming to the States. Emer and her passion for the GAA and Galway in general will always make me smile, especially when and if I hear the Sawdoctors. Maria, Cathy, Helena, Ellen, Edelle and all my other pseudo-housemates have all become close friends. Mark, for good or otherwise, has taken me under his wing to make sure I fully experience Ireland, which means he keeps me out in the pubs when I should be studying. It's just been an amazing experience, which in no way diminishes any of my friendships back home; no one here has replaced anyone back home and no one back home will replace those I've met here.

It's hard to explain. I love everyone back home and look forward to being with you again; it is coming so quickly, though, that I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye to those here. That doesn't mean I'm not ready or not desirous of seeing all y'all (or all ye, as my housemates would say) back home; I'm just not ready to say goodbye to everyone here.

Hope that somehow makes sense.

Thinking Outloud

2006-11-29T12:44:00.000-08:00

"Recently, Anna was becoming nervous about the shape her personal life might take, or have forced upon it. For, side by side with her reluctant realisation that the family was going downhill, began to stir an uneasy understanding that liberty--she hardly knew for what, but just liberty, the general principle--might be an expensive thing."
--Kate O'Brien, The Land of Spices p. 207

So I've been working on this paper about the 1878 Intermediate Education Act and the 1879 University Education Act and I've come to realise just how much I agree with O'Brien's view of education. O'Brien sees it as a means to liberty, a way to achieve transcendence over those things that seek to bind us to an existence that is not our own. I was really drawn to this quote for reasons I can't explain. I don't want anyone to freak out because I know our family is not going downhill. I think this quote has something for me just because, right now, my primary concern is liberty, not in the political sense, but in the existential sense. There is nothing so important as living authentically and being able to encounter life in its utter realness.

Some Pictures

2006-11-25T09:51:00.000-08:00

This is Galway Harbour

This is a Castle on the Cliffs of Moher

This is the bay, looking out into the Atlantic, from Lahinch, Co. Clare

The Family

Just Thinking

2006-11-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

So I know have less than one month before I come back to the States. It seems very odd to think how quickly this time has gone. I was after talking with Cara this week and she asked me whether or not I remembered going to dinner with her at Chipotle before I left. Of course I did. We talked alot about her experiences in the D.R. and I tried to understand, as best I could, because there is simply no way for someone who has not been abroad to understand what it is like. I do not think even know I could come any closer to understanding what it is like to spend a semester in the Dominican Republic. But I can certainly understand some of what it is like to be abroad.

What would the world be like if everyone had to spend one semester abroad? Well, first of all the number of Americans who had their passports would no longer be the vast minority. Think about that. As vast as America is, the majority of Americans will not leave the country. How little one can learn about oneself remaining in one place. Amy asked me the other night why she should study abroad. Well naturally this led to a long conversation about education and globalisation and a whole host of other topics not slightly related to study abroad, at least on the surface. Some of the things we talked about were as simple as education. We both want to be teachers and being over here has certainly changed my understanding of education. I would love to be in charge of a tutorial over here in any University; I don't know whether or not I would want to be a lecturer, just because I crave that one on one interaction with students. I love the dialogue that is found in academic discussions. Here a lecture is simply that. There is no discussion; it's more a class in stenography. I've learned about fair trade. Limerick is a certified fair trade city, meaning it very much pushes fair trade products. They are so readily available that it is simply something people do. Every one of my housemates knows about Fair Trade. They were almost shocked that it isn't a big deal in the States. O'Neills, an Irish clothing company, is all made in Ireland. O'Neills makes everything, too, from jersies for hurling clubs, to sweat pants, to track suits, to jumpers. It is unbelievable the amount of Fair Trade and Sweat Free products.

Some Pics from London and Dublin

2006-11-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

This is St. James's Palace in London

The sunsets in London were gorgeous. The building you can barely make out is part of Buckingham Palace.

These Georgian buildings and homes line St. Patrick's Cathedral Church of Ireland in Dublin along one side.

I love the way the General Post Office looks at night.

Boston College's Irish Studies Programme has a house for its students on St. Stephen's Green in Dublin

James Larkin was the leader of the Irish Socialist Movement in the early 20th Century, which culminated in the Transport Union Strike of 1913 and then also participated in the Easter Rising of 1916.

How am I?

2006-11-05T11:11:00.000-08:00

So in my emails, I've really avoided talking about what's been going on inside of me since I've been over here. It's not that I don't reckon with it myself, but I haven't really explained anything. I guess I'm putting this up here to give a little bit of insight. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen Dedalus firmly defines his mission: "I will tell you what I would do and what I would not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use--silence, exile, and cunning" (Joyce 268-269). Now, I don't want anyone to take this the wrong way. I am in no way disavowing my country or my church or my home. I am simply agreeing with Stephen's declaration of himself as his own master. He refuses to be subject to the expectations and definitions others impose upon him. That is the single greatest lesson I have learned while abroad.

Cill Airne agus Luimneach

2006-10-24T05:57:00.000-07:00

This is looking out from the bridge that brings you into Limerick from Shannon.

This is a pub in Limerick City down by King John's Castle.

This is a river in County Kerry, not far from Currans, where we went on Sunday.

Pictures from Dublin

2006-10-21T05:23:00.000-07:00

The Temple Bar "Tabairne Barra An Teampaill"

The General Post Office (The GPO). Here, Padraig Pearse proclaimed the Irish Republic in 1916.

Kilmainham Gaol

i mBaile Atha Cliath

2006-10-21T02:24:00.000-07:00

Sorry this post has been so long in coming, but I've been without my internet in my room for most of the week and I've also been trying to finish my paper on Women and the Rising. But I want to revisit my trip to Dublin. I feel like the email I sent wasn't quite enough to accurately depict the city. So I'm going to try to explain my feelings about Dublin. Now, to do so, I'm going to use Joyce's Dubliners and his thoughts about the city. As a teenager, James Joyce would walk and walk for miles and miles around the streets of Dublin, which created the intimate knowledge of the Dublin streets he displays in Dubliners and Ulysses. One of the circumstances of Joyce's life that proved inexplicably formative was that his undergraduate years at University College Dublin coincided with the early years of the Irish Revival, the literary and cultural movement that sought a definition, a fixed identity for the Irish people as more than West Britons or more than a colonized nation. Joyce saw this introspective movement as parochial and narrow-minded.

Some critics argue the characters in Dubliners represent alter-egos, possibilities of who Joyce might have become if he had stayed in Dublin. Whether this is true or not, it is not difficult to see the sort of paralysis that plagues the characters. Dublin is a sort of dull phenomenon, a place of stasis, according to Joyce. In a very real sense, this Dublin paralysis defeats the characters; however, Joyce does not view them as contemptible or failed. Rather, the characters are powerless and trapped.

Upon visiting Dublin, it is easy to feel some manifestation of this paralysis or stasis. As I said earlier, there are very beautiful parts of Dublin: Temple Bar, Trinity College, St. Stephens Green, Merrion Square and Dun Laoghaire, just to name a few. But even along the quays as our bus rode into Dublin, there seems this sense of dejection around many of the buildings. Obviously the low, oppressive clouds and the monotonous, unchanging gray does not alleviate any of this. There is a stark contrast between the life and vitality of O'Connell Street and Temple Bar and the sullen buildings that seem to frown upon the Liffey only a few blocks away.

I don't want it to seem, however, as though I did not like Dublin. There is a sense of culture and definitely a sense of history. How can there not be? How can one not feel a sense of the cultural nationalism of the early 20th century standing in front of the Abbey Theatre (even though it's not the same building at which Yeats, Synge and Lady Gregory staged their plays)? Joyce, too, seems to recognize the existence of a cultural vitality in Dublin in his last story The Dead. This story, although it exhibits much of the powerlessness of the other stories, has in it a vibrance that is wholly lacking in the rest of Dubliners. The party, the music, the singing, the dancing, the debates, all of these contribute to a sense of life. The only problem with it is that this life is not seen as Irish. Now, I'm not sure Joyce would see that as a problem at all, since his idea of cultural nationalism was one of Ireland as part of the Continent. But, to Dublin, the fact that this party danced quadrilles, waltzes and lancers instead of reels and jigs is inexcusible. That cultural nationalism demanded an Irish life that could only be inauthentic in Dublin because Dublin could never be and never will be Galway or Connemara.

The Salmon of Knowledge

2006-10-12T14:55:00.000-07:00

The University's International Education department ordered for all the study abroad students sweatshirts. They're actually really neat. They're heather grey with "The University of Limerick" embroidered in blue and outlined in red. On the left sleeve it has the harp with "Ollscoil Luimnigh," Irish for "The University of Limerick" and on the back it has the Salmon of Knowledge in front of an intricate celtic knot design.

Now I'm kind of a big nerd, but I really think the Salmon is cool. It comes from the Fenian Myth Cycle, as opposed to the Ulster Cycle of Cuchulainn. The Fenian cycle focuses on Fionn mac Cumhail (the name Flann O'Brien used to create Finn MacCool). Well Fionn studied under the poet Finneces, who had spent years trying to catch the Salmon of Knowledge who lived in the river Boyne. Whoever ate the Salmon would gain all the knowledge in the world. Well, finall he caught the Salmon and had Fionn cook it and, while cooking the fish, Fionn burned himself and instinctively put his thumb in his mouth to ease the pain. Doing so, he gained the salmon's wisdom. The resulting knowledge enabled Fionn to take control of the Fianna and thus enter into Folklore forever. Pretty cool, huh?

While we're on the topic of Irish Folklore, I want to talk about my Irish Folklore class. It's actually terribly fascinating. Today we studied Eibhlin Dubh ni Chonaill's keen for her husband Art O Laoghaire. It was absolutely heartwrenching. She cries, "Until Art O'Leary (the Anglicized form of the name) comes to me/my sorrow will not clear,/it weighs on my heart's core/shut up tight/like a locked trunk/when the key has been lost." What a beautiful and tragic keen. Now most of y'all won't know what a keen is. It is a lament that is sung or more shrieked out loud. It is part of the Irish tradition of the Wake, which is a three day period that allows for all the stages of grief. The keen is a beautiful form of a eulogy, but it sounds so harsh, like wailing. There are very few recordings of a keen because it was so intimately tied with death, but literature has preserved some. Lady Gregory's plays have some examples of keening.

Well I miss y'all and will definitely publish a post after I get back from Baille Atha Cliath (Dublin). Slan.

Irish

2006-10-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

So one of the most difficult things to explain has been one of my classes. Whenever I say I am taking Communicative Irish, I get a great array of responses from the "does that mean you're going to learn to speak in an Irish accent," to the "You mean Gaelic" and ultimately the blank stare. Well we talked about this today in Communicative Irish. So let me try to explain, mainly I found it absolutely fascinating, especially because I've studied the history of Irish Nationalism through the Literary Revival and subsequently the GAA (which was on campus last week recruiting) and the Gaelic League. We are all keenly aware of the debate about the character of a nation and its relation to a national language that is going on back home. Well that tie between Nation and Language arose in the mid-nineteenth century, which is the age of Nationalism. Since then, there has been an almost undeniable logic that to be German one must speak German and that all areas that speak German are filled with Germans. You see the pattern? Well, that is a very affirming thing. It humanizes people and fosters community.

This, my friends, is exactly what the British did not want for their closest and most troublesome colony. So instead of allowing this community-building phenomenon to run rampant in Ireland, the Brits squashed the use of the Irish Language. They banned it from schools, from commerce, from government. Eventually people began to see it as useless, so they stopped teaching it to their children. They didn't stop there. They further alienated people from that identity by calling the language Gaelic, making it exotic and not of the people. Thus to refer to Irish as Irish justifies the use of the language and the community of the people. So, no I am not taking Gaelic. I am taking Irish!

Cliffs of Moher, Surfing and 20th Century Irish Lit

2006-09-30T11:08:00.000-07:00

Well, it's official. I've now been in Ireland for over a week. I've gotten through a week of class and I'm still here. In some ways, it's so difficult to decide where to start. I'm not sure where to begin. Monday was the first day of class. Now nothing at UL is easy to find. I was just ecstatic I found all my classes (ALL WEEK!) and was on time for them all. That may not sound like a big feat, but let me tell you when you see a code like E0010 or SGB15 or C1063, you consider yourself pretty darn well-off if you can decipher it. My housemates tried to tell us that the Main Building here is based off an American design, but Greg (my housemate from New Hampshire) and I were not going to be convinced.

Classes are going well. I don't have much homework to do this weekend: the only real thing is to read Elizabeth Bowen's The Last September, which I've already read once. Let me run through all the classes I'm taking, I'm not sure if I told y'all all of them. I've got Social and Economic Change in Ireland: 1780-1914, James Joyce & the Epistemology of Language Nationalism and Subject has become Early 20th Century Irish Literature (but not the Irish Renaissance and Revival), Irish Language, Irish Folklore and Women in History. All in all a very interesting class. I've already got papers to write, but they're not due for a while. Some of them though are very exciting. I'm thinking of writing a paper on Lady Gregory's use of keening for my Irish Folklore class and I'm doing a paper on either Jane Austen's letters or Maria Edgeworth's letters and how they depict and relate to Irish or European women's history.

But on to the good stuff right? Well UL has a pub on campus called the Stables and it is a great idea! The pints at the Stables are only 3 euro 50 or 4 (if you get a Bulmers, which I would highly reccomend). Sunday night, the guys in my house decided to all go to the Stables for an hour or so. Well, I was just totally psyched because I really didn't know the people in my house very well. But after this week, I've gotten to know them so much better and I'm ecstatic for the time I get to spend with them. I mean I talked for an hour with Carl (my housemate from Dublin) and his friend Mark (also from Dublin) about the Troubles. This is the kind of stuff I came over here for, the kinds of things that, as great a historian as Tim Pat Coogan is, could not be conveyed through texts. Those two guys are the ones who took me surfing off the coast of Ireland and to the Cliffs of Moher. I still get chills thinking about how gorgeous it was.

But another night we decided we were going to go out, but the Stables closes at 23:30 (why I don't know). So we drove into Castletroy to the liquor store. I was just going to get a Zywiec (Meg and Matt Clark can tell you why) but they decided I should try Buckfast. Well, let me tell you, this, my friends, might be the single greatest reason to hate England. It is a "tonic wine" made by English monks. Now it is the most vile drink in the world. The cashier was laughing at me when I bought it. I get shivers thinking about that too, but very different from the kind the Cliffs cause. I could barely drink two drinks from the bottle without throwing up.

I'm not sure what all we have planned for the week. I think I might go back with the guys to Lahinch (camera in tow this time). We've talked about going to Doolin, but the guys say it's soooo touristy that you can't even "yip" during the music without some Italian or German scowling at you for "disrupting the music." At least, that's what Mark complained about. I sure could stand to find another chipper (a fish and chips restaurant).

Well, I definitely miss y'all. And I'll try to talk to y'all soon. Peace. Dia is Muire dhuit is Padraig.

Kilmurry Village and what? Sun in Ireland?

2006-09-25T05:42:00.000-07:00

These pictures are of Kilmurry Village, from my window. I took them because it was the first time I saw sunshine in Ireland.

Fish and Chips, Fair Trade Wine and Rain Galore (Week 1)

2006-09-25T04:52:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been so long since the last post. I've been trying to get internet in my room, but I wasn't able until today to really get everything set up, which is great because the line to get into the library's computer room was out the door. The part that I could see was maybe 35-40 people. Back to you. Anyway, the first two days I was in Ireland I didn't see the sun. I got off the plane and it took an hour to get my luggage and clear customs. I knew I was in trouble because I had no idea what the Customs Officer said to me. I made him repeat it several times. Then finally my luggage came through and on the other side of the door was a representative from UL. Since it took for ever for my luggage to come through, she had already sent on one group so I was going to have to wait for the next group to come through, which would be in about 45 minutes. That was fine. We talked for a good long time. Finally the other person we were waiting for came through. He was from Ontario and the two of us rode together in a taxi to the University. The drive from Shannon into Limerick was absolutely gorgeous. Our taxi driver made some comment about, "If the sun was shining, ye'd be able to see 40 shades of green." At the time, I rather doubted him. All I really saw was 40 shades of gray rain clouds. All along the road from Shannon were open pastures, ruins that look sort of like Thor Ballylee but maybe older (I'm not really up-to-date on my Irish Architecture) and picturesque B&Bs. The driver took us through a little bit of Castletroy, which is the immediate area surrounding the University, and all the homes were exactly how I imagined them. Most were some shade of gold or yellow with white trim around the windows and then a bold red or blue on the door. The roads were tiny, narrow and winding (per usual in Europe).
Once the taxi driver dropped me off at Kilmurry Village, I went into the Reception Hall and got my key all squared away. They handed me a map and a packet with house 73 circled. It's probably a block and half, now that I've been able to walk it and tell. But that first time, as soon as I step out of the hall, it absolutely starts to pour. I mean raining so hard you can barely see in front of you. To use an Irish coloquial phrase, it was "pissin' rain." By the time I got to my house and into my room, everything was soaked. The packet, the map, my bags, some of my clothes through the bags. It was lovely. That first day, I unpacked and went to bed. I woke up around 2 and wrote in my journal and then I went back to bed. I wasn't exactly thrilled with my decision to come to Ireland. It was cold and wet. My room was small. I didn't know anyone. Sometimes I could understand people.
The next two days were the Study Abroad Program Orientation. Think CU Survival, not the skit, from 9-3 for two days. It was boring beyond belief. But I did meet some really neat people. I sat down next to this guy from Philadelphia, who is majoring in Creative Writing and is taking that Joyce class with me. As we were talking I heard someone say something, I think it was "aeddress," so what I'm trying to say is I was also sitting next to a group of girls from St. Thomas in Minnesota. We sort of became a group. It's been fun. Friday after orientation ended four of us took a bus into Castletroy to buy some things that we left at home. It is only a Euro thirty for the bus here. Well the first store we went to, PC World, didn't have the outlet adapters that Katie and I both forgot at home. Katie is one of the St. Thomas girls, but she's from Iowa. So Katie, Tricia and I had to walk to another shopping center to find the stuff we needed. Meghan, a girl from Chicago who goes to school in Iowa, needed to go to a grocery store so she broke off with us from the getgo. Anyway, we headed to the other shopping center and found the outlet adapters at this store and then we were going to go get something to eat. We thought there might be something at the other end of the center so we decided to keep going. Well, it turned out our only options there were KFC or Pizza Hut. No thanks. So we go into this grocery store/department store combo (i.e. Super Target) called Dunnes. They were giving away samples, so of course we decide to partake. The first thing we come upon is soy-yogurt. Believe it or not, it was actually really good. They had a bunch of really interesting flavors like mango and peach or mango and pear. At Dunnes, I got a hunk of Irish Cheese, some crackers and some Fair Trade Wine. That was my dinner that night.
Saturday, I slept in until twelve. It was glorious, except for the fact that everything, and I mean everything, shut down on the weekend. The library was closed, so that meant no email. The store was closed, so was the pub (SHOCKER, I know). So I go back and hang out with the only housemate who has decided to stay the weekend, well because he couldn't really get back to New Hampshire for a weekend. All my Irish housemates went home. Carl went to Dublin, William went to Nis (I don't know if that's how you write it, but it's pronounced Neesh) and the two girls, well no one really knows where they go. I had only seen them both a grand total of three times. I hadn't met either one. You see the people over here are extremely friendly. I'll give you some stories later, but they're not extremely outgoing. At first that was really hard, especially when you can't understand but half of what they're saying. The accent gets even more difficult whenever there's more than one Irish person. But, Saturday, Greg, the freshman from New Hampshire, and I hung out together watching TV. Then when we decided to go find dinner, we had no idea that the Sports Bar on campus and the Stables (the pub, which did open later) stop serving food at 7. Well, we left the house about 8. So we had to walk into Casteltroy to find some dinner. I got some fish and chips from Rio's, this little stand. It was awesome. They dumped the fish and the french fries into a paper bag and poured salt and vinnegar all over it. Plus, the whole thing was only 5 euro, whereas Greg paid 17.50 for his pizza from Domino's.
The next day was a slow one. I got up and did some reading in Following Christ in a Consumer Society, which is just wonderful. It completely challenges the way we relate to people and calls into question the freedom over our lives we have given to the economic system. Anyway, I don't want to get into that here, maybe when I get back. At 5:45, I walked over to Plassey Village, which took about 25 to 30 minutes, to meet the St. Thomas crowd. I wanted to include the time just to give y'all some idea of how big a campus it is. Kilmurry is at the back of the campus by the Sports Arena and Plassey is at the entrance to the University. It's a good hike. Well, I met up with Katie and Tricia and I met more of that group from St. Thomas. The girls are just hilarious. The five I've been hanging out with are all from Minnesota and Iowa. We all went to Mass together at the Salesian parish right by campus. The celebrant was one of the chaplains for UL and, let me tell you, he might give Father Postell a run for his money, as far as time goes. It was a great Mass. The lector was from Poland, I think. He definitely was not Irish. The homily was wonderful; it really hit upon the same sort of things Kavanaugh is talking about in this book. The priest talked about how it almost seems human nature to compete, to want to be better than someone. But, according to the Gospel, we shouldn't want to be better than, we should want to be with. We shouldn't see everyone else as obstacles to overcome, but as partners. He even ended in the typical Father Heaney ending: "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord and one another," although he didn't do the voice drop that Father Heaney does.
After Mass, I walked back to Kilmurry and my housemates were back! Well, the guys were all back. I was so happy to have them home because they bring more energy into the house than just Greg or I. We all decided to go to the Stables for a pint (on a Sunday? the night before school? I KNOW! I couldn't believe it). Well the place wasn't too crowded at first, so we all got our beers. Me being the Texan, I drank Corona. I told Dad I wasn't quite hungry enough for a Guinness yet, but I sure thought about trying a cider. I guarantee you I will and tell y'all how it is. We stayed for probably two hours. Then when we got back, we ordered a pizza and then called it a night.
Today was the first day of class. I'll leave it, because it's getting long, at the fact that I'm just excited I found all of them!

vaya con Dios!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2006-09-18T20:56:00.000-07:00

So the countdown is on. I'm not very good at math, as most of y'all know, so I'm not going to deal with the countdown. Let's just say that in less than 48 hours, I'll be in Limerick. Everything is all packed. I'm ready to go. Sort of. I don't really know how to explain it. I am so very excited to be going. I still cannot believe it is all happening. This sounds quite a bit like my old post, but trust me. These sorts of thoughts, questions about doing the right thing or not, have started surfacing the more undeniable this trip has become. Obviously, I know it is the right thing for me to go. But what has really gripped me lately is how much easier it is to be excited for something when it is not much more than a notion, some speck on the horizon. But, when that something is within 15 hours of happening, it is, suddenly, much more difficult to be so sure of the decision.
Tonight reminds me of two other times in my life. The first seems such a long time ago. The night before I left Nathan Adams Elementary, just down the street, for K.B. Polk Vangard I stayed up late into the night crying with my mom. I knew I needed to go to Polk. It was the program that I had wanted to be in; it was the program that John and Kelly were in. But Nathan Adams was pretty much all that I knew. The next morning, it was like the previous few hours had never happened. Polk was such an exact fit that I am amazed I ever had second thoughts. Needless to say, I have never looked back at that decision with any regret. If I had not gone to Polk, there are too many possibilities for the outcome, none of which seem as wonderful as the present. Secondly, this moment seems so similar to the first trip I made to Omaha as a Creighton student. I remember packing the van, leaving Dallas, hitting Denton (which is a city for y'all who don't know) and all the while being hunkey dorey. All systems go, right? Well that all changed when I hit the Red River and crossed over into Oklahoma. At that instant, I finalyl understood that I was truly leaving home. For some reason, there are many moments when the reality of a situation seems completely and utterly deniable. Then that all comes crashing down and one must deal with the stark reality of what is. I don't want that to sound as negative as it does. But for almost a year, I have known that I was going to be abroad for this semester, granted a year ago I still thought I'd be studying in Krakow, but now that it is merely hours away, all of a sudden I am quaking in my boots. I know, however, it's just a mixture of anticipation, excitement, nervousness and just about every other emotion. I know I just need to get onto the plane, well more likely, get off the plane in Limerick and I won't look back. I'll hit the ground running and quickly forget the sense of fear that is in my heart tonight.
But to lighten things up, Sara asked me tonight if my stomache was all tied in knots, I responded, "It's simply too full of Mexican food to be tied in anything." Mmmmm.
Well I guess it is that time, time to "live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life," as Stephen Dedalus said in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens

2006-09-04T21:24:00.000-07:00

Now I know if any Phi Delts read this, they'll immediately think of Rahoul and Bid Acceptance. But the title actually comes from an old Western Swing song from Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. It's too long to explain, but let's get back to what really matters, namely not Texas musicians from the 1940s. In about 6 hours, I will officially be the only college-aged kid left in Dallas. Ok, not really, but at least in the group that we hang out with. John is taking off for Northwestern tomorrow at 0530 (there's military time for ya since he's in Navy ROTC). As relaxing as this time will be, I almost think I know what it feels like to be on a silent retreat, or at least in some sort of isolation. I spent most of my Labor (or is it Labour) Day reading on the couch as my mom and dad watched some movie about Cuba in the 1950s. Not that this should be interesting to y'all because it's not really all that interesting to me. I just figured I should let y'all know, even though most folks think I'm already overseas. I don't know if this part of the experience will make Ireland that much more entertaining, this sort of hiatus from socialization. I can tell you know, I already crave the sort of interaction that one finds amongst college students. I already miss sitting on the mall, or walking up and down having five minute conversations with people in between classes. So I guess the long and short of it is that I miss all y'all and will continue to do so until I'm back in Omaha, I just might not express it in such a longing tone once I get to Ireland.

vaya con Dios

2006-08-31T23:10:00.000-07:00

Fixin' To Leave Omaha

2006-08-31T20:06:00.000-07:00

It's never easy leaving Omaha. Whether it is at the end of finals, just for Spring Break, or for a semester abroad, I always hate the thought of packing, of hugging everyone goodbye, of driving away. And, as much as I hate it, I'm doing it again. I've got my clothes all cleaned and I just need to put them in my backpack and toss 'em in my truck. This time, though, it's different. It isn't easy to say "goodbye," but I know that I must. I don't want y'all to think that I am scared to go, or regretting my decision to study abroad. I feel almost exactly as I felt when I got into the van that was loaded to the brim and headed north on I-35 for the first time on my way to Creighton. It was an anxiety that was based not in fear but in excitement. Of course I am sad to say goodbye to everyone, sad to know that I won't have Alvi's anymore this semester, but I could not be happier to be going to Limerick. Sometimes, though, I still can't believe that I am going to be leaving for Ireland in about twenty days. It just doesn't seem real. I guess I just thought I'd get this going and hopefully y'all'll stay on for the ride.

Matt