In Denial

My new alarm clock ticks behind me, oblivious of the constant reminder and irritation it evokes in the people around it.  Continually ticking, it’s the last thing I hear as I fall asleep and it’s shrill alarm wakes me in the early morning.  It says goodbye the same way it says hello, goodnight, wake up, and it’s time to go.  It’ll never let you forget that time is fragile and that there is no time like the present.  If you don’t take advantage of what’s going on in your life, one tick is all it takes to put it into the past.  And despite its wise admonishment, I find that it is difficult to continue on my path.  I’ve been living in Ireland now for a week; an entire week.  And though I have learned the local streets and buses, I am still in denial that I am living in the place of my ancestors.  Though it did hit me as I exited the airplane – having boarded it in 85 degree Fahrenheit heat, and exited in 15 degree Celsius gloom – that I was not at home by any means; it still hasn’t really sunk in.  Though I’ve made friends, and planned trips to other parts of Europe, it puts me in mind of the summer camps for kids.  You leave home for a new place, make friends who are also far from home, and have all kinds of adventures, but the first half of camp is spent in the haze of dreams.  You could have only dreamt of the adventures and grand times that you are having, and at any moment your mum is going to come in and rouse you for school.

Yet I waken from this haze to turn up the radiator, now that the night wind has picked up, as it often does.  Bundling up and snugging down under the covers is luxurious and oft-practiced activity here; as the once convent halls are drafty and bare.  But it is slowly becoming more homey.  Pictures of home and old friends will soon be joined by ones of this new home and the new friends.  Now that the madness of “settling in” is over, perhaps so will this summer camp haze dissipate, and we will all realize that this is happening, as we hope, realize, and dream.  Here, our dreams come true.

The view from my window at sunset

Surrealist Movement

It is one of those hot sticky days where you don’t want to do anything but lounge about the house and do absolutely nothing.  Unfortunately it doesn’t always work out that way.  I got up, went to work, came home, worked on projects, an altogether mundane day.  But as I sat back from packing lists, cleaning chores, and bins full of “things I’ll never need again”, I realized that this is happening.  It’s cliche to say I can’t believe it, but I couldn’t.  It didn’t sink in that an altogether unremarkable young woman will soon be wishing her friends and family well, and leaving them all.  I took the time to take a deep breath and realized that this is actually happening.  As my sister and her friends giggle in the room adjacent mine, I see that that is something I won’t hear again for a long time now.  I’ll be buying my tickets within the week, and I’ve already begun to pack – trying to decide what I can live withoutand what must not get left behind.  My good old American music and my cat lightly snoring in the background, I just can’t fathom what made me decide to leave it all behind.  The promise of adventure outweighs the comfort of the familiar; but for today, I just want to appreciate the things I can’t take with me.

A beginning

Today begins my public observations on life.  In my day to day grind I voiced little opinion.  Perhaps the magic of the Internet shall help to give me a stronger voice.  I believe the best way to begin something is by introducing yourself.  Hello.  I am here to mark the passage of life, whether it shall be a passive observation or not is yet to be discovered – but I think not.  I’ll shortly be moving to a foreign country, in which I know no persons, the bus system, or even how to pronounce the street names.  Though excited – I am indeed a born gypsy, doomed to forever roam the earth – I face my new life with some trepidation.  I’m leaving behind the sunny coast of California , a land of the January flip flops for a place of grey skies, good Guinness, and peat fires.  Processing all the appropriate paperwork, opening bank accounts, preparing for the shift in scenery and weather, it is almost too easy to lose sight of the adventure and opportunity staring one in the face.  Yet every time I recall the upcoming venture, shakes and adrenaline overcome me.  So, here I am.  A log book of sorts, tracking those changes and adventures just as a ship at sea needs to remember the blur of her first cruise, we need to remember our lives.  Or at the very least – to selfishly preserve them for future generation’s study and reflection.  Is it not so?  And so the adventure begins: day one; we begin to stock supplies for our indefinite cruise.