Lá Fhéile Pádraig

Firstly, in a really contrary spirit to today’s festivities, I want to get you a bit up to speed on Nightmares in Dissertation Writing. Today featured Episode II: The Research Proposal which is due tomorrow. The actual process of writing the proposal hasn’t been horrible (though I’m a touch scared that I’ve messed up the formatting, can’t imagine it being a huge issue at this stage). The main problem is that I’m a disaster.

Soy un desastre.

I don’t know what it is. Well, I kind of do. But. Throughout my academic career, I’ve been a pretty good student. I’ve been mostly committed to school, enjoyed learning, and done all my work. In college, my method for dealing with procrastination (to which I often fall victim) was to simply assign myself earlier deadlines. I could procrastinate all I wanted, but to an earlier date so that, if things got really bad, I would still have an extra week or so to finish. In grad school, that hasn’t worked for me. I’ve driven myself insane looking at a blank Word document (actually, I usually at least head it) and trying to will myself to write and watching Netflix instead. Or whatever the distraction of the moment is. It’s been kind of the worst. I won’t deny that I’m currently working on this post as a means of procrastinating. Ugh. I will finish in time and it will be fine. But it will be fine once I’ve finished, until then, it’s fear and self-loathing in Stoneybatter.

I don’t want to talk loads about my topic because a) you guys probs won’t actually care that much b) it’s sort of complicated and c) I’m better at explaining it in person (hopefully that will change by the time I hand in my dissertation). But for now, at least, I’ll give you a preliminary title.

Portrayals of Autochthonous Language Minorities in Norway: Sami and Nynorsk.

And if that doesn’t turn you onto sociology, nothing will. Isn’t autochthonous an awesome word? So glad I found it. It makes me feel like I’m actually earning a Master of Philosophy degree. Only Masters of Philosophy would use such a word as autochthonous.

Anyway, in the realm of things that you actually care about: St Patrick’s Day! Sorry to disappoint (slash not really disappointing if no one was expecting anything else from me) but I’m super lame and will not be participating in any shenanigans in honor of the religious holiday during Lent. Which, when I realized that St Patrick’s Day was during Lent, I giggled. Apparently it’s a day off, because that’s a thing, yeah? If it makes you feel better, I am wearing green.

Also, a bit of history for you, celebrating today like we think of celebrating it (at least, we Americans) is actually an American thing. No one here eats corned beef and cabbage–like, ever, not just today–and the whole crazy parades and everything is largely a product of the Irish diaspora in the US which was then exported back to Ireland a few decades ago. Previously in Ireland, it was mainly commemorated by a grim (I imagine) military parade because religion=politics because Ireland. Though in all fairness, religion is pretty political everywhere, whether you like it or not.

And I cannot give you a phonetic pronunciation of this week’s title because I don’t know how it’s pronounced. I do know Patrick, which is Paw-drig, but your guess is as good as mine for fhéile. I think la is pretty straightforward. I’d probably go for Fey-luh. If you know, please comment and enlighten us all.

So, sorry about my super boring life. But, um, lame and proud? Anyway, great things in the coming week or so. Next Wednesday and Thursday are the Choral Society concerts, Elijah if you recall. Super pumped, it’s just such a great piece. Then, it’s Good Friday and Easter and a whole thing about this particular Easter in this particular place…. but that last is a subject for another post. Suffice to say, things are happening. I have loads of work. The term is almost over. How did we get here. It’s almost April which is almost summer which is almost the rest of my life. What.

I think that about covers it for this week. Work, I’m lame, more work, holidays, Ireland things. Until next week, I guess.

 

 

A Wish Your Heart Makes

First things first: I had my first sort of preliminary dissertation presentation today in Research Methods. It went really well, I thought. The class was very supportive and interested (in my pretty obscure topic), I got some useful feedback, and I just generally felt much more prepared than I had going in. So either I am, or I’m kidding myself, but I can live with that.So that’s Nightmares in Dissertation Writing: Episode I over and done with. Obviously, there’s still loads that’s nightmarish, but I’m over the first hurdle and it is, at least for now, a good feeling. I’m going to withhold details on my topic until they become a bit more solidified and I’m able to talk about it more succinctly and plainly. For everybody’s reference, I will be submitting a 3,000 word full proposal on 18 March, after which I will officially be assigned a supervisor. Then I read and write crazily all summer. Woo.

Right, other things. In choir this term, you may recall, we’re singing Mendelssohn’s magnificent Elijah, including the rousing movement Help Us, Baal! Now I’ve sung a variety of religious music in my time, but I’ll admit that this is my first hymn to Baal. My favorite line is, “Baal, let thy flames fall and extirpate the foe!” What an excellent use of the word extirpate. I feel like pretty much every use is a good use for a word of that caliber.

I’ve also never done a Throwback Thursday before, but my mother sent me this precious picture of the cats from 2008. It once again highlights everything about who they are as people. I mean cats.

Also, there’s this contemporary portrait of my gorgeous. You can hardly tell she’s cross-eyed.

The other one wouldn’t sit still for his portrait. No one was surprised.

Cue thoughtful musings for the week. Things since coming to Ireland have been tricky as I come more and more to understand where I see myself in five or ten years. In many ways, I feel great because I do actually have a vision of what I want (at least sort of) and that’s an empowering thing. It’s also been very scary, though, because it’s not what I would have said even six months ago. Those of you who have known me for a long time know that I’ve wanted desperately to live in Croatia. Not for any particular reason, but just because I thought that was where my soul belonged. These past few months have given me a different view on my love of the Balkans. Now, I see it more as an interest, a fascination; the history, culture, language, landscape are entrancing (ensorcelling, even). But as I’ve developed an idea of the sort of work I want to do, it becomes increasingly clear that the Balkans may not be the place for me. Don’t get me wrong, I still love them and am up for living in Croatia–but holding more to my fantasy of working in a bookstore, keeping bees, having an orchard, and living in a seaside cottage than doing the work that stems from my education.

It’s sort of a gross feeling, knowing that my dreams are slipping through my fingers. And that I’m not really doing anything to stop their departure. I’ve clung for so long to the version of myself that wanted to live in Croatia that it’s difficult to face the version of myself that doesn’t really. I feel like I’m betraying my past self and, probably, ruining my future self by succumbing to the normalizing influence of the world. I don’t want to be normal, I want to have dreams. But maybe dreams are meant to be more fluid, like literal dreams, than we often allow. It’s not abandoning particular dreams that breaks the heart, but abandoning dreaming altogether. And so.

One way or another, I will continue on. My vision of myself will have to change and, I suspect, this will not be the last time. In fact, I suspect that one never gets it ‘right’–rather, that we keep changing right up until the last. More or less visibly, more or less radically, but changing. It’s like the old adage, “Do not be afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.”

And another thing. Some people might be like, “Oh, but I don’t want him to squander his potential.” Firstly, I love the word squander, so nice work on that. But also, I have a lot of issues with that. I think perhaps the idea of potential is the wrong way to look at it because you’re sort of doing your thing wherever and however you are. The idea of wasting potential is sort of ridiculous, it’s not like I have a box with potential inside and I can either use it judiciously or pour it on the ground and jump in it like a puddle. Perhaps more to the point, though: is life about living up to your potential (real or imagined) or about finding meaning, fulfillment, and cats? I mean, if I end up in middle management for the city of Gillette, Wyoming but am happy and fulfilled, who is to say that I oughtn’t be there because I am capable of so much more? Not that I really foresee Gillette, Wyoming being my long-term destination in life. But what if I did?

I don’t know, it is what it is. This got a little heavy (read: juvenilely philosophical) even for me toward the end. I almost used the phrase ‘human condition’ which obviously would have been a disaster. I hope you’ll forgive me. Anyway, until next week.

Keep dreaming, my friends. Keep dreaming.

That Song Is Actually About Me

Here we are, the first week of February, the beginning of the end. End in every sense: the program is turning toward the dissertation and so one thinks of what’s next, my mind is turning toward the dissertation and so I’m going insane, and February’s basically August, yeah? It’s a dark time coming home on Thursday evenings this term. It’s dark out (though this week we celebrated sunset after 5 o’clock!), I’m super hungry, and I’ve just finished Research Methods which is, obviously, incredibly depressing in a way that my other classes are not. Anyway, it comes down to this: I’m presenting next week in Research Methods, detailing my dissertation question, background, relevant theoretical literature, methodology, and anticipated difficulties. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Because those are things that I know here, in the first week of February.

I’ve never been so upset to be a native English speaker. And I only have myself to blame, but still. I desperately want to be at least bilingual. For so many reasons, but at the moment, at least, because the topics I have in mind are all about minority European languages. None of which I speak. Ugh. Whatever, I’ll get over it. I hope.

Anyway, this past week. Australia Day (observed) was a great success, I thought. My truffles went over swimmingly, which was a relief because their making wasn’t quite heartening. I also had a toothpick worth of kangaroo which was delicious. It was rich and flavorful and just wonderful–sort of like steak, in my estimation. Also, there was Vegemite. Now I’ve never had Vegemite, but I’ve had Marmite (the English version) and while some may contend that they are significantly different, I would contend otherwise. They’re the same, I promise you. Anyway, there were these Vegemite-Ham-Cheese rolls that looked like cinnamon rolls (so you have a visual). They were fabulous in every way, I never expected to like them but I ate like four. So that was all-around lovely.

Now because these posts seem to be so dark lately, I’ll catch up a bit on my bloggerly duty and include some cats. Because cats cats cats cats cats.

They were feeling cooperative, apparently, and managed to get in one picture. Though I will say that, while far from chummy, they do snuggle near each other with some frequency. So I hope you’re feeling a bit better, I know I am.

I don’t know about you guys, but I certainly get a lot out of this blog. Not necessarily because I say anything much, but because I just really enjoy it. I’ve at various points in my life fancied myself a fledgling author (fiction only, friends) and while this is no novel, it is fun to have a place to write willy-nilly each week. Also, just so you know, willy is underlined as misspelled but nilly is not. What does nilly mean. Anyway, I’m sure it takes some amount of vanity to write for a real audience, and certainly I’m a bit vain, but hey, love the skin you’re in. I really do enjoy writing this blog and I look forward to it all week, mulling over titles, fun facts, and various other points I consider writing about. Of course, when it comes to it, the vast majority of that either utterly escapes me or I decide to do something totally unrelated. But I really do enjoy the whole process. So I hope you’re getting a little something more out of this than the occasional life updates and cat pictures. If you aren’t, though, I’m kind of over it.

Also, some of you may know this already (shoutout to my AP Lit class) but there were originally eight deadly sins, the eighth being vainglory. As I understand it, vainglory is essentially pride or vanity, though I also think there’s usually an element of other people involved. Like, you’re seeking approval or you gain pride by putting other people down. At some point along the line, some pope (who I’m assuming was super vainglorious) was like, “Nah, that’s not really a deadly sin. Let’s just have the seven.” So there you have it. That’s a verbatim historical account of how that went down.

Not much else to report this week (as ever). I’m getting pumped for a trip to Amsterdam at the end of the month during reading week. That should be a lot of fun, might also take a day trip down to Antwerp because it’s handy and fun to say. We’re also celebrating the Chinese New Year this weekend, year of the monkey. Lots of holidays, yay. In other news, the weather is still sweater weather (as predicted) and generally chilly and rainy and windy.

That’s all I have. Enjoy the cats and I’ll be back next week, same bat time, same bat channel.

A Dark and Stormy Night

So here I am in the kitchen, writing, and it certainly is dark outside. And raining. And windy. Not sure that it’s quite a storm, but I’m going with it. My reasons, though, have more to do with the state of the world than the current meteorological realities of North Dublin.

This week was full of great class discussions but, as per usual, they were pretty depressing. Near the end of our first class this morning–an overview of the neoliberal system and how vast and awful inequality &ct is–one of my classmates just simply asked, in all seriousness, “Is there any hope?” And my first thought was good question. It’s not just our classes, which are pretty topical, but the variety of other things going on in the world that variously draw my attention: the US presidential race, the refugee crisis, Syria, the rise of the far right across several countries, climate change, drought, famine, disease, poverty, violence. And a whole slew of others. I’ve talked in previous posts about these issues and the occasional feeling of helplessness if not hopelessness. And I’ve explained why I do have hope. But it’s a tricky thing and I require reminding sometimes. As the old song goes, “I’m just a poor, wayfaring stranger a-traveling through this world of woe but there’s no sickness, toil, or danger in that bright world to which I go.”

The question of how to confront these challenges is a big one. Always I’m asking what to do. And solving the world’s problems is not the purpose of this blog, so I’ll forgo answering, at least for now. It’s incredibly frustrating, tiring, and not a task for an empty stomach. So I’ll leave it there and simply allow the preceding paragraph to both illustrate my mental state and serve as a public service announcement to those who may be unaware of these issues–or those that prefer not thinking about them. They’re tough, and you may not have anything to say about them, but you ought certainly to think about them. Thinking is pretty important in my estimation.

Anyway, on to other things. Tomorrow is our belated Australia Day party (perhaps I should say ‘Straya Day’). For those who don’t know, Australia Day was this past Tuesday so we’re gathering tomorrow in honor of the Australian member of our ranks to eat food and hang out. Should be good craic.

Ooh, there’s a fun thing. Ireland time. Okay, the word craic. It’s pronounced crack, like the cocaine, and it means fun. Sort of. You can use it in an astonishing variety of contexts such as “Missed you at the party last night, it was good craic” or “Ah, yeah, he’s great craic” or “what’s the craic?” Now the Irish (and occasional British) are welcome to critique that assessment (and/or supplement my examples) but everyone else will just have to take my word for it. Please note, it is not used in the sense of “Hey, what’s crack-a-lackin’?” but “What’s the craic?” is a fair translation for that phrase into Irish. Yes, I do know people who say crack-a-lackin’.

I don’t have a whole lot else to report. Things are proceeding and it is what it is. Ideas for my dissertation continue to stew, we’ll just have to see where that will end up. Just one final note from me on the state of the world. I try here, when urging people to just be better people generally, to use really simple and broad terms so that I don’t have to explain myself and so that people really get my point without their hackles going up. And I realized that what I wanted to say today (particularly in reference to issues like immigration and refugees but also broadly applicable) has already been said. The phrase is in such wide circulation, in fact, that it has a name. A phrase with a name.

The name is The Golden Rule.

So there’s my two cents for this week. Think about it.

I Want to Blizzard

Anyone else uncomfortable with how similar the words parson and parsnip are? And are just uncomfortable with the word parse, generally? Raise your hands (FYI, raising my hand). I thought that was sort of urgent. Don’t judge me. I think this week’s post, in following with last week’s spirit of silliness, will be a collection of immensely random things. Also, my life is random.

So, finished the first week of classes but still haven’t had two. One doesn’t start until next week and the other, in lieu of class this week, we attended a conference on Islamophobia and anti-Muslim racism. The conference was really good, got to hear firsthand about what people are experiencing and what others are doing to combat it. A lot of the stuff we’ve sort of been talking about all year, but it was good. There was also free lunch. Otherwise, classes have been off to a great start. I really think I’m going to love the one on education, should be super interesting. We have a different professor for research methods and the structure is radically different–basically, it’s just to support us as much as possible in writing our dissertations. So while my confidence in myself has not increased, my confidence in the institutional process has. So there’s that.

Some of you may be aware that there’s a ginormous blizzard headed straight for D.C. While car accidents and hypothermia are bad things, I’m sort of bummed to be missing it. I love snow, and storms, and snow storms. Also, D.C. is hilarious when it comes to weather because the city really just can’t handle it. My final winter in D.C. we got some decent snow and it got really cold (which is awful to be in but awesome to experience from inside a warm apartment) but this is definitely going to surpass that. So I’m a little jealous, no one’s perfect. To all my readers and friends in D.C.–take luck! And take pictures. And get everything you can out of it because I want to blizzard vicariously through you. Also, important aside, it should always and forever be referred to as D.C. and never Washington because the other Washington is more important and better in every way. When people argue with me about this, I land the low punch and ask them which Washington has voting representation in Congress and they usually go quiet. Don’t do that, though, it’s mean to people who live in D.C.

Had a lovely weekend. On Friday I did, in fact, visit that museum and it was lovely. Very eclectic, but enjoyable. Housed in an old military barracks. I went rather early in the morning, just after opening, and it was very cold and frosty/icy. When I entered the main gate and walked into the courtyard, I was totally alone in this huge space glittering in the pale light just peeking above the clocktower. It was cool, so was the museum.

Also this weekend, I saw the movie Brooklyn with some friends–highly recommend. It’s up for two Oscars at least (Best Picture and Best Actress) and they are richly deserved. I also had Sunday lunch with some people from church and it was, as always, lovely. A great deal of laughing was involved.

Also, categories that I have no problem identifying favorites: animals. No question #1 Musk-Ox #2 Narwhal #3 Walrus. Not certain, but giraffe and owl are probably #4 and #5 respectively. Also, in the movie category, for those of you who were uncomfortable with my inclusion of Australia, I take it back and replace it with Moulin Rouge which I can’t imagine what temporary insanity possessed me to leave out in the first place.

In some ways, for me, the highest form of flattery is rereading. Obviously, this isn’t true for things that aren’t written and it doesn’t hold true even in all cases of written things. But. I’m a rereader. There are some things that I reread because they bring back a feeling either inspired by what’s written or because it reminds me of something else that was going on when I first read it. Other things I reread because I cherish them. They may not necessarily be superb writing, or even express important things, I simply love them, the way I love Kinza teriyaki, regardless of how the taste compares with what others might mistakenly call better teriyaki. Some things I do reread because they are excellently written and/or express meaningful, insightful, and important things–unfortunately many of these reside in the ‘classics’ and in lieu of rereading the entire gazillion pages, I often turn to Wikiquote to get my fix. Still other things I reread because I can’t survive without doing so. Some things are so important, so inside of me, so something that they sustain me. Help me, heal me. And I hope that everyone has some words like that. Maybe from a friend. Maybe from a book. Maybe from the Bible. Or a combination thereof. I don’t know, maybe other people get something similar from another source. But I am convinced that everyone needs it, whether they reread it or not.

So there are some observations, happenings, and musings for the week. No promises on this one, I’ve had a long day and sort of just want to cozy up and Netflix into the wee hours of the morning. Until next time, then.

Be Silly–Everyone Else Is

Ta-da, back in the Ireland. I’ve always thought that countries we refer to with ‘the’ (excluding word-countries like the US and the UK) are super cool. I feel like most of them in English have sort of gone out of common usage, but I still like to say the Ukraine and the Sudan. In German, I know that it’s the Switzerland (die Schweitz). Russian, of course, doesn’t have any articles, so it can’t do that. But I don’t know, I think it sounds cool. Some are pretty silly I guess (the Canada, the China) but I do really like the Ireland. The Morocco. The Azerbaijan. There you have it.

I miss my cats terribly. Also human people, you know, but cats.

Anyway, here I am. After saying my farewells, I hopped back on a plane and flew back on Sunday and arrived on Monday. I’ve done basically nothing since then. The first few days were pretty rough. I’m not normally super effected by jet lag, but I had it something fierce this time. I think I’ve gotten over it at this point, now it’s just laziness. But I’m determined to go to a museum tomorrow. There’s one quite close to my house and, as a baby step in going back to actually doing things with my life, I think it’s ideally suited. You all can check to make sure–if I don’t mention The National Museum of Decorative Arts and History in next week’s post, I give you permission to…say something to me. The website makes it sound pretty intriguing, if a touch eclectic: “Discover weaponry, furniture, silver, ceramics, glassware, Asian art and the Asgard, as well as folklife and costume artefacts.” So look forward to that, sounds like it’ll be fun. Not sure what The Asgard is, wondering if it’s any different from Asgard (no article) of Norse mythology.

Right, school’s starting again this coming week, so that’s something that will be nice in terms of learning (which I honestly do enjoy), seeing people, and having a bit of schedule in my life. At the same time, it’s school, so it’s lame. This term, I’m taking six classes again, meeting Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Race and Ethnicity: Theoretical Concepts (Episode II); Colonialism, Conflict, and Liberal Intervention (Episode II); Research Methods (Episode II); Labour, Migration, and Conflict; Contemporary Sources of Conflict; and Migration and Education in Europe and North America. Joy of joys, more Research Methods! Though that one will have a different professor and I understand it to run very differently from the first term, so we’ll see. One way or another it will be related to writing the dissertation, so I can’t imagine it being a fountain of pleasure, but hopefully it will be a bit nicer than last term. I’m really excited for the education one because I think that’s where I’m drifting in terms of career and post-graduation plans. It’s going to be a crazy ride, one way or another.

Which brings me to my title for this week. It sort of just came to me as I sat down to write, and it fits a bit in with other things I’ve been thinking about. You often hear that you’re supposed to be yourself. One of my favorite quotations (no idea where from) is to be yourself because everyone else is taken. People have often praised me for being myself and not caring what other people think about me. This is not entirely true, of course, as I am not always who I am and I do care too much for other people’s impressions of me. However, I think something that I have been gifted with is the ability to be very silly. Now silliness is seen by different people in different ways (as things often are) but I often behave in ways that adhere to the mainstream definition of the word silly. My point, though, is that everyone is silly because we’re all different but we also share many things in common with any variety of other people. So it’s not always necessarily about being different from others that makes you yourself. Sometimes the things that link us to others are what make us the most unique. For example, I’m really into cats (surprise!). This has sort of become a mainstream bit of craziness–we all know crazy cat people. But we’re not all the same because we’re crazy cat people, we’re just brought together by our fearless manifestation of silliness (though obviously loving cats isn’t silly in the slightest).

Not really sure that any of that was intelligible, but it all makes sense to me. Which just proves my point. Don’t be afraid to be silly. I think people who like football are silly, and people who like football often think I’m silly for it. I think investment bankers are silly because they’re like the epitome of not-silly, and they likewise think I’m silly for the precise opposite reason. Like I’ve said in another post, we’re all maniacs down here on Earth. Who knows what any alien races might think of us, should they observe our collective silliness.

But who cares?

This Post is Thrilling

Entering the final few days at home, I find that it’s been a lovely balance of enjoying my time here and the urge to go back. People keep asking me about my dissertation and that in and of itself is reason enough to flee the country, I think. But it honestly has been a really good break. It’s been so important to me to keep up with certain people who (without naming names) are easiest to talk with in person rather than any virtual or written communication. One way or another, I think I’ve pretty well made the rounds of friends and family. There are a few I’ve missed just because life is hard, but I feel pretty good overall.

Of course, now I have to start thinking about school again. I do still have that one paper to write, though I have a week back in Ireland before classes start so it should be okay. It’s been particularly pleasant knowing that people are back at work and school already and I’m just hanging out, very much enjoying that. It does mean,  though, that I haven’t really much to write about this week. Like actually. I struggle to recall specific events of the past week, I just sort of have a general impression, mixed with a few details. I caught up with some friends, hung out with some family, watched some Netflix…

I have this unreasoning fear that they’re not going to let me back into Ireland because I don’t have all the necessary documentation or something’s wrong with my card or something. After all the nonsense that went into registering with the GNIB, I think I’m just paranoid that somehow it didn’t work, it’s all a sham, and I’m going to be stranded. Don’t worry, I’m like 97% certain that it should be fine, but there you have it. I’m also perpetually paranoid when I travel that I’ve forgotten something(s). I don’t actually mind the traveling bit at all, even planes and really long layovers generally, it’s the stress of remembering everything that makes me freak out. But there it is. Wherever you go, there you are. It’ll be grand.

Anyway, I really don’t have anything else for you this week. So obviously this post’s title was an outright lie. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, titles are hard and it simply couldn’t be helped. I trust that next week I’ll have at least a bit more to say, maybe I’ll finally get around to museuming in Dublin since the weather should be okay and there’s no school. We’ll see. Here’s to crossing a continent and an ocean. I’ll next be writing here from several time zones over.

Wick

Happy December, everybody! I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a pretty good week, made only better by the nearness of home and Christmas. It’s just the most wonderful time of the year.

First, I would like to share an excerpt from my current literary endeavor (admittedly a much faster read than my previous), The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It’s a rather lengthy quotation, but I found it so inspiring, well-written, and altogether touching that I just have to share.

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then that one is quite sure that one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun–which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by one’s self in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes.

So there you have it. To ancient times and distant music…

Anyway, this week featured an extra session for a class that we had missed earlier in the term. We made it up this evening and the lecture was entitled Globalized Racial Regimes or something like that. It was an incredibly depressing session in which we were basically really critical of development and aid and things like that, but at the same time, I enjoyed it immensely because we got to talk seriously about flaws in systems that implicate us every day and which, to be honest, I hadn’t really thought much about previously. And it wasn’t entirely depressing insofar as the professor reiterated that the opposite of what he was trying to do was say, “Everything is bad, therefore do nothing.” So there was sort of a note of hope at the end, though he said he mostly wouldn’t talk about it until the last class. But anyway, there’s a brief look to prove that I am learning things, I find those things for the most part very interesting, and there is a point to getting this degree (something which is always nice to hear).

Also, backtracking a bit, we had our program Thanksgiving (I’m not into the term ‘friendsgiving’) on Sunday and it was absolutely fabulous. There were the staples: turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and bread. There were also some dishes that I was unused to seeing on a Thanksgiving table but thoroughly enjoyed nonetheless: Chinese dumplings of some sort, Shloer (the adult soft drink?), and Snickers salad (which is apparently a thing, brought by an American). There was some small contention over the sweet potatoes– I wanted the kind with brown sugar and marshmallows and the Brits wanted plain roasted ones (I lost)–but it was all in good fun and a really great time. I will once again express how grateful I am to have such amazing coursemates and thank them again for being so awesome. Though one slightly sour note–on my way to Thanksgiving, I took the bus most of the way, then was going to walk for the last ten minutes or so. On the bus, the weather was fine, but of course the moment I got off, the torrential rain, severe wind gusts and sprays of hail began. So I arrived a bit wet, bedraggled, and generally worse for the wear, but spending the evening with friends warmed me up inside and out.

It’s now that time of year when assignments are causing anxiety and Netflix beckons ever more fiercely. I’m grateful that my course load doesn’t actually involve a huge amount of work, but I am doing my best to procrastinate on the small bit that is required. All things considered, I think I’m in a pretty good place to finish out the term strong. Or as strong as is sufficient. Sufficiency isn’t a particularly ambitious goal, but it is what it is. And I certainly am going to work hard, I’m not going to slack or anything, so don’t freak out. I’m a good student, I promise.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed last month’s weekly poetry. I won’t be continuing it this month, but I anticipate bringing it back sometime in the spring. It’s so easy, reading my book, to believe that it is spring (much the same way I often feel it’s raining if I’m reading about rain or frigid if I’m reading about cold) and the weather today certainly made a concerted effort to remind me that it’s December. By the same token, though, it reminded me of all the things I like about rain. Living here, my relationship with rain has been somewhat strained since it’s just over two miles walking to school, but ours is a tenacious romance. I love the sound of rain, the feel of it, the way it changes how everything else looks and feels and sounds. It comforts me. It embraces me. No matter how vociferously I complain, we’ll be lovers for as long as I live.

Bread Alone

Happy October! Fun fact, the Croatian language has retained some really old terms, including month names. Most European month names are real similar, with French (octobre), German (Oktober), even Russian (октябрь). But the Croatian is Listopad, which means basically ‘leaves fall.’ So that’s cool.

Done with classes for this week. I’ll reserve judgment, since I’ve only had each class once, but I will say preliminarily that I anticipate this term being pretty solid. The major exception, of course, being Research Methods which, while the professor seems good and I don’t think the work will be extraordinarily difficult, represents a particular and vicious form of torture for my personal brain function.

But other than that, initial lectures and discussions have been really good. The Social Policy class in particular, I think, is going to open up a lot of interesting avenues generally but also perhaps toward a topic for my dissertation. Most of you are aware that I’m interested in the former Yugoslavia, generally in partition/secession theory, and how to deal with regional post-conflict integration, especially with the gradual accessions to the EU and that whole issue. An enduring side interest, however, is language and minority languages in particular. So social policy can offer some important insights into management of education in multi-ethnic, multi-lingual societies where the language you speak is a political statement in and of itself.

Anyway, those are some initial thoughts on school and how this term might pan out. For those of you who don’t know, Trinity (among other posh institutions in this part of the world) divides the academic year into terms, not semesters, and gives them funny names. This term, September to December, is Michaelmas because, apparently, it typically starts on or around the feast of the archangel Michael or something like that. But, because they’re so posh, they have to pronounce it Mikkelmus, because Michael-Mass is too mainstream. Or low-brow. Hipster, posh, whatever…

This being the first week of classes, it was also the first rehearsal for Choral Society. This term, we’re doing Handel’s Messiah which, fun fact, had its world premier in Dublin in 1742. Also, the Choral Society has been around since 1837, which is rad. Anyway, let me tell you that it feels so good to be back in music. I mean, it’s only been four months, but the uncertainty about what my music life was going to look like here really had me worried for a while. But here I am, all is well, the group is fairly good, I’ve met some nice people, and expect to really enjoy being a part of it. So yay on that front. Music is so important to me. It’s been a huge part of my life for a really long time. I’m not one of those people who have been playing piano since they were six, but I nonetheless have a huge part of soul that is alive only when I’m making music. And I have been in choir since I was nine.

There’s a great poem set to a few pretty well-known pieces whose first line says, “If music be the food of love, sing on.” I totally agree, and really love the poem, but it falls a little short of really getting music for me. I see music more as the food of life. You can live without it for a bit, and not everyone is great at preparing it, but it’s real important. It comes in an unbelievable variety of forms, instrumental or vocal or both, genres beyond count, a huge number of historical and cultural options, on the stage, on the radio, on YouTube. It’s remarkable. Music is just real great.

Aside from those developments, it’s been a fairly mundane week. I took the DART train for the first time and didn’t die. I finally started Count of Monte Cristo. It’s really good. Not much else to report on this front. October is here and that means that November is continuing its steady creep toward the present.

Here’s a challenge for you, I guess. Think of something without which you aren’t certain you could live. What would you say is the food of life? I don’t mean, golly I couldn’t live without Netflix/my phone/quesadillas/cats/Hugh Jackman movies (wait, did he include cats in that list?!?!). Take a moment to share that passion with someone you care about. And if someone shares with you, just bear with it even if you think it’s lame. Relish how much the other person enjoys it. I think we could all do with a dose of empathetic passion, yeah? Plus, it’s cool to learn things about the people we are surrounded by.

FYI, my answer is music.

Sugar, Spice, and All Sorts of Nice Things

Let me tell you, I had such a wonderful day yesterday. I finally was invited to register, because at Trinity you need an invitation, and that just opened a lot of doors. I didn’t actual walk through the two major ones until today (setting up a bank account and getting my student id) but it just felt great to finally have that done. It was supposed to have happened a couple weeks ago. Golly.

Another thing that happened yesterday but bore fruit today was the package I received from my mother. I was gone when they tried to deliver it and had to pick it up at their facility this morning, so I had an hour long walk. But. It mostly contained the few things I couldn’t fit in my luggage, but it also contained a bag of rye crisps (possibly the greatest snack of all time) and fuzzy slippers. So that was fabulous. There was also a shaker of cinnamon (I felt I had to tell you to make the title true. But there was actually cinnamon. For real. I just wasn’t going to mention it).

Then, I encountered a new Irish candy bar called Lion that has a white chocolate version, and obviously it was nothing short of miraculous. This would be the sugar part of the title. FYI, white chocolate is my everything.

Then, having given up on waiting for my Trinity registration to go through, I spent some quality time in a book store and just bought The Count of Monte Cristo (which my local public library, embarrassingly, didn’t have). I’m sorry if I talk about books too much, they’re just a huge part of my life. And my phone just autocorrected part to party, and basically. Books are just a huge party.

I finished the day in a cool coffee lounge with a sort of kooky decoration style, having a lovely mug of tea and a slice of Nutella cheesecake. I don’t have to tell you the ecstasy of that dessert. I probably couldn’t if I tried. And passed the time in pleasant conversation with some be friends from church.

So yesterday was just really, really exceptional. I just want to tell you all how sorry I am that your yesterday was so lame in comparison with mine. My sincerest condolences.

Anyway, on to what this term has in store. I’m taking six classes that meet once a week for two hours. They are: United Nations and Conflict Resolution; Conflict Zones Case Study–Colombia; Race and Ethnicity, Theoretical Concepts; Colonialism, Conflict, and Liberal Intervention; Race, Ethnicity, and Social Policy; and Research Methodology. Obviously that last one terrifies me. Terrifies.

Additionally, I am now a member of the University of Dublin Choral Society which rehearses one a week. This term, we will be performing Handel’s Messiah which, interestingly enough, primiered in Dublin, or so I’ve heard. I also auditioned for the smaller Trinity Singers group and haven’t heard back. Honestly, I think the audition went terribly, but I’m not too broken up about it. I still have Choral Society.

Enough about me, on to more important things.

This week’s cat pictures generously provided by the wonderful Aarathi and Becca. His name is Captain Kirk. Obviously, he is a delightful animal and I love him from afar.

On a totally different note, I truly hope you took some action based off my challenges to you last week (didn’t realize this blog would come with challenges, didya? Don’t worry, neither did I). Nothing important or profound this week. But I do recommend the Wikipedia page for electrum. I found it really interesting. Let me know your thoughts.

That’s all I have. I’ll write again next week, provided I survive my first week of grad school.