sometimes i think gravity is a pity.

So, here I am. It's past midnight and I've just gotten home from a most enjoyable night at The Crane, and I'm listening to the Gettysburg soundtrack. I don't often stop to ponder the Civil War. It's a little past where I seem to have landed myself in U.S. history, but I remembered, for some reason, putting the title theme on my graduation slide show. Here it is if you're interested, but, I should warn you before you get the wrong impression, my graduation was not rife with hardship and drama. It was actually wholly undeserving of such an epic song, but my 18-year-old brain worked in weird ways.

Anyway, what is the purpose of this update?  Well, there are a few things I've done recently (in no particular order) that haven't made it into a big update, so you'll have to make-do with a photo-dump.  Listen to the Gettysburg theme while you browse if you want.  Maybe it will make me seem even more adventurous.

On Friday, I went to the Galway Atlantaquarium with Jessica.  The sun was shining and it was warm enough that I could wear this dress without a sweater, and I even got a little sunburned.  The mood was one of general merriment as we gushed about the ray pool, brought our fierce to the big tank, watched eels be fed, and held A SPINY SPIDER CRAB!

On Saturday, Amy and I went on our Castles field trip, which was really quite amazing.  Since our professors are BAMFs, we got access to cool things otherwise closed to the public.  Like this building.  Right now you're looking out over the bawn of Pallas Castle and I am standing on the battlement of the tower house.  Built in the 1500s, it was a stronghold of the Burke family.  To the right you can see the gate house, and to the left one of the turrets that allowed defenders to fire out along the curtain wall.  In the tower house, many cool defensive features existed--my favorite: the murder hole.  No joke, guys.  It's a hole right above the door, so as invaders are coming in and making that split-second decision of left or right, you're dropping heavy, lethal stuff on their heads!!  Oh, it just gets me all in a tizzy!  Next to the tower house was a later addition, which was cool, too, because it was kind of like when you take away one (in this case, three) walls in a doll house and can see the skeleton of it all.  So cool!

We also went to Clonmacnoise to visit the ruins of a castle there, precariously perched on its impressive earthen defenses.  Again, professors = access.  We actually climbed under the fence this time through a little hole, and then we stormed the fortress!  Well, we tried anyway.  It's incredibly difficult getting up these things, and I thought I'd have the advantage, with all that motte-conquering I did in Kilkenny.  Alas!  By the time I'd run up the side of the hill, I was so tired at the top and had so much momentum when I finally got there that I almost fell flat into the fosse, which was just as deep as the embankment was steep!  Thankfully, I didn't, but I did run down and then back up again.  Such hard work!  Thankfully I could rest beneath smiling (and somewhat disapproving?) saints under the Arch of Amorous Nonsense at the monastery a bit down the road (see below).

Oh, yeah, and a few weeks ago, IFSA Butler took us on an organized trip to Killary Adventure Center, where I fell through the air more times that I was comfortable with, but what matters is that I did it, even if it meant the death-grip for whoever did it with me.  Plus, the weather was great.  (No sarcasm intended!)  Sunny one day, and it snowed the next!  My two favorite weather patterns in one weekend!

Alright, well, it's probably time for me to head to bed.  If I'm lucky (slash if I get this paper done before the weekend) I may take a short break in Dingle this weekend, or perhaps Kerry!

Chowder, folks!

the real world beckons.

On Monday night, I pulled my first all-nighter of the semester.  It's not something I do often, not even at Oberlin, though it's increased in frequency over the past year.  I don't know what it is about writing a paper, but I just can't seem to bring myself to budget my time wisely.  I think back to high school and all the lessons they tried to drill into my head and I wonder whether it was worth the effort.  It didn't matter how many times Mr. Wolf recited the Seven-Ps, ticking them off on his fingers for emphasis, or how often Mrs. Messick called us slackers, I was still scribbling out essays on original intent during calculus to be turned in the next period.  Some people gamble their money to feel a rush, but I prefer my time.

Anyway, with one paper down, I'm beginning to think ahead.  How am I going to pack all my stuff?  What will I need during the summer?  Where will I go?  How will I get there?  Do I have the money?  When am I going home?  Will I find a job?  Can I visit friends in different states?  What will I do for my 21st birthday?  Can I do an Honors project?  Where am I going to live next semester?  Will I get my jobs back at Oberlin?  What classes will I take?  Can I teach an Irish dance ExCo?

Inevitably, I cast my thoughts so far into the future that I begin to drown in them.  Already I'm thinking about applying for a Shansi Fellowship to teach in Japan, or maybe I'll apply for the Naturalist internship at the Glen.  Or I'll take a year off and work somewhere at home to boost my savings account before I head out into the world again.  I suppose I could (and should) go to grad school... The possibilities are endless, and if it seems like I have a plan and my life's in order, then there's clearly something wrong with you because I don't think anything terrifies me more than what lies ahead.

And I guess the point of this all is to say that I can feel my time in Ireland coming to an end.  The sun is shining and the world is beautiful, but I have exams to write and trips to plan... I don't like the thought of leaving any people or places because I always do it wrong.  There's always something missing when it's all said and done, and I'm always left regretful.  There's a quote from Catcher in the Rye that really sums it up quite wonderfully: "What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-bye.  I mean, I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them.  I hate that.  I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place, I like to know I'm leaving it.  If you don't, you feel even worse."  So what I'm trying to say is that I want to do it right.  I don't want to ever have that feeling of "Oh, but I never did/said this...!"

And even if that is a little hypocritical coming from the girl who doesn't want to go to Paris again and who doesn't have a particularly burning desire to experience Italy, Greece, or even London, I just feel like those things will happen later on in my life if they're meant to be.  Years ago, I would have told you I'd never make it to Ireland, but here I am, and I want to do a half-assed job of making the most of it.  So here's to planning trips and managing money and finishing all these exams so I can get out there and enjoy what I've got left!

féile pádraig

I have experienced St. Patrick's Day three different ways in my twenty years on earth.  At home, I used to be in a parade, walking (or dancing, if Peggy asked us to) in a wind suit in front of a car full of little ones (also in wind suits).  The parade ended and I was either dancing (this happened rarely) or backstage helping umpteen little girls out of one dress and into another, out of soft shoes and into hard shoes.  It was a full day affair, exhausting, but totally worth it, even if it meant staying up until 4am writing deep, poetical bullshit for Mr. Rickert's class the next day.  You see all sorts of people you know on St. Patrick's Day in Columbus.  You love them, you hate them, you've barely spoken three words to them--it doesn't matter.  Everyone is family on St. Patrick's Day.

every parade needs a sláinte mobile.

Fast forward to Oberlin and there's no parade, hardly anyone remembers to wear green (or even remembers that it is St. Patrick's Day), maybe there are a few Harkies on the bowl goofing off on a fiddle, but that's about it.  You go to class, you do your homework, and you go to bed just like normal.  A couple of times, I've tried dancing in the dining hall for my fellow co-opers... Not many people ever came, but, you know, even if I don't get everyone in the world to be my family for a day, it's nice knowing that even just those three friends who have papers to write and things to do took the time to walk down the stairs and share ten minutes of the day with me.  I've no idea if they think I'm a lunatic or awesome to have around on St. Patrick's Day, but the fact that they care enough about me to get just as excited as me in a place where it's just like any other day... I don't know, it means a lot.

i just can't get enough of that girls face in the middle!

Jump to Ireland and it's almost like it's both.  Walking around Galway wasn't any less beautiful chaos than wandering around in Vets' Memorial as a kid trying to find your mom, and I wasn't wearing any less corny novelty gear (I was probably wearing more than usual, to be honest).  There was an amazing parade, cute kids, and a little bit of rain to make the day absolutely perfect.  The difference was my environment.  I was in a beautiful place with beautiful people, but most of them strangers.  I spent the day with people I'd met three months ago, one month ago, and some just a few minutes before I sat down.  Oh, and I didn't dance (I didn't see any dancers either..).  Which is the real strange part, because I have never not danced on St. Patrick's Day.  Whether it was on a big stage or in a dark, private corner at the Cat while talented people provide the music, dancing is just something you do.  St. Patrick's Day for me may always be a mostly sober experience (I had a Bulmers but didn't crack open the Druid because I didn't want to get sloppy in front of strangers and two of anything alcoholic is unfamiliar territory), but I really should have danced...

the mob was literally right behind the last part of the parade. madness!

I guess I'm not trying to say that one way is any better than another, just that it's interesting that the same day, two hours north of home and eight-ish hours by plane east of home can be so incredibly different and yet so similar.  I'd like to think that I haven't changed much since my first real St. Patrick's Day with Shanahan, but maybe that's part of the difference, too.  As I make my way in the world, there's always going to be a St. Patrick's Day for me, even if I have to make it myself, but I guess the beauty is that, as I grow up, so will my experiences.  I may no longer the scared little girl lost in a crowd, and I don't think it will ever be as lonely as my freshman year of college either, but friends, family, tradition, culture, and community (and good ol' corny head gear) will follow me everywhere.

Here are some more pictures of the parade:

And just in case you weren't already pictured-out, here's a little look at where I was last weekend:

I'd talk about it a little more, but this entry is already longer than it was meant to be.  Day 10 without Facebook and I'm clearly already dying for some sort of online outlet for all my ~*feelings*~.  Ha ha, well, so it goes, I suppose.  This weekend is study weekend, by the way.  I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to Oberlin and actually have to do course work.  Cry, that's what.


Have a happy weekend everyone!

oh my god. you killed kenny.

In honor of Pancake Tuesday and International Women's Day, I bring you, my favorite vegan pancake recipe.  It's great because I always make just enough, and I hate eggs, so I don't have to go wasting my money on eggs I won't finish before they go bad...

Makes: 4 Pancakes
2/3 cup of flour
2/3 tablespoon sugar
1 1/3 tablespoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup soymilk (or milk if you're not vegan and just hate eggs)
1 1/3 tablespoon cooking oil
(optional: a few drops of vanilla)
(optional: dried cranberries or walnuts)

And then you make them like you'd make regular pancakes.  I usually make these when I have no bread and don't want to go to Dunnes.  I stack them up and make a quadruple-decker PB&J pancake sandwich!  Yummy!

orange juice, grapes, pancakes, and johnny weir: breakfast of champions.

Now, here it is, as promised: my trip to Kilkenny.  I was staying with a friend of my mom's friend, and even though I was nervous about so many things involved in getting there and getting comfortable (bus tickets, bus timetables, bus transfers, being super shy), I had nothing to worry about.  The bus ride went off without any glitches, and everyone was extremely nice.  It felt great to have a real life in Ireland for a weekend, you know?  Watching birds out of the kitchen window just like at home, visiting friends, buying birdseed, driving around the countryside, going out to lunch, sitting in front of the fireplace, playing with pets... I don't know really how to describe it, but it was really relaxing and just what I needed, so here's a shout-out to Cathy Burke and her family: THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME!

both of these pictures (above and below) are from rothe house in kilkenny, one of the few medieval burrages left.  what they'd do is give you a plot of land that was maybe 20m across, but that would stretch back 100-200m.  so rothe house was actually a series of three houses separated by beautiful courtyards and gardens.  the top picture is this deer skull mounted at the height it would have stood when it was connected to the actual animal!

a shot from a 95th birthday party.  how many of those do you get to go to, huh?  this guy was born before the 1916 easter uprising.  it just blows my mind.

a little church we found while driving down a random road.

this and the photo below it are both from st. mullins holy well.  holy wells are really cool because they're more folk religion that official religion... there are so many rituals involved with them, and guess who was in charge of those rituals?  women.  which is really awesome, in such a patriarchal religion as catholicism.  it's also really fascinating to think that people would walk/crawl there in bare feet... like, what?!  i only wish i can find such dedication in my life.  below is a picture of frog spawn found in the holy well.  i nearly fell in i was so excited!  holy herpetology!

a cemetery behind monastical ruins near the holy well.  there's also a motte just across the street, which corroborates what we're learning in class about how castles sprung up near places already in use as ecclesiastical sites or preexisting settlements...

 twin lambs!

 

a fireplace--how cozy!

these next two are from the gardens at woodstock park, an amazing place with trees and tea houses and benches and ruins and ponds and playgrounds and everything you could ever want to see on a walk.

  

a beautiful view from the side of the road.

puppies!

kilkenny castle, a beautiful, multiphase castle owned by the butler family, the dukes/marquis/earls/lords/whatever-title-of-magnificence-you-can-think-ofs of ormonde.  they flip-flopped more than any politician of our day from jacobite to loyalist and back again.  and like most castles, there's a lovely park attached that's great for walking.  across the street is the servants' quarters/stables.  there were actually tunnels and secret stairways so that the elite people wouldn't see them milling about.  how strange!

So, there you have it.  I had an amazing time in Kilkenny, and I hope to maybe go back again once the flowers have started blooming and such.  I'd love to see Jerpark Abbey and St. Chanice's Cathedral and some of the older buildings in town.  I really loved it there.  :)

Tonight, I'm off to a Mozart concert by Ireland's RTE Orchestra followed by Trad Night.  I will be wearing my new pair of jeans since the rest are in the wash.  It was a little aggravating because I couldn't find a pair of normal jeans so I had to get skinnies.  For someone with calves the size of mine (gentlemen of yore would kill their mothers for calves like mine), it just doesn't work out... but they're not as bad as I expected, and I can sit down in them, so... c'est la vie.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and I'm determined to do Lent right this year.  I want to give up something that turns me into a mindless machine so I can spend more time thinking about my life and how I can be a better person, improving my productivity, feeling better overall.  I just bought ice cream and Nutella, so giving up sugar is out of the question.  So I've decided to say goodbye to my Facebook for forty days.  I'm still going to be on e-mail, so if you need to contact me: jgraham@oberlin.edu or wilde.erbsen@gmail.com.

That's all for now.  Chowder, y'all. 

bean sídhe

I promise you I will update on Kilkenny tomorrow.  My castles class is canceled, which gives me five hours before German, unless I skip it like a bad little girl and sit on my rear all day eating ice cream.  Tell me, now, which is more probable?

So, here I am: procrastinating on my history paper, by procrastinating cleaning my room, by procrastinating the Kilkenny update, by writing an update on this past weekend.  It's a long line of procrastination, but whoever told you I'm a girl with my head on straight and my priorities in order was a dirty liar.  And if it was me, well, I am a dirty liar.  Am I even in Ireland right now?  How do you know?  [cue suspenseful music]

Okay, no, I am in Ireland.  I only lie about funny things (like pretending to be a former nationally-ranked junior figure skater), and in embarrassing situations (like not being able to speak English).  I am in Ireland, and since we've established that I ramble like an idiot when I've nothing interesting to say, let's begin with Friday.

It was Salthill: Take II for Megan and I.  We took off after our classes on Friday since the weather was nice enough for just a light sweater and even sandals!  On the way, we devoured a bag of jelly snakes (which, by the way, may/may not be in the mail soon for all my favorite herp enthusiasts back home).  It was a delightful walk, and since it was so warm, we decided to get our toes wet........which, with the incoming tide, meant that our feet, ankles, shins, and knees also got wet.  It was more surprising than cold though, as you can see from my face in the picture below--totally candid, I might add.

We walked a little further in our wet shoes, because if there's one thing you should do in Salthill, it's kick the wall.  It's a tradition that (apparently) started when this English dude came along and built his house there.  The Irish didn't like it, but they couldn't stop it, so they decided to kick it.  They figured that if every person went and kicked the wall every day, it'd eventually fall down "by accident" and no one could arrest any one person for the crime.  Well, it's still standing, and the people are still kicking.  It's a fun tradition and a fun story, but I'm skeptical.  For a dirty liar, I'm awfully gullible, so who knows if this is true or not.

my contribution.

After Salthill, it was off to Austrian Night at my friend Sophie's place in the City Center.  It was an amazing time.  I was hanging out with all these Erasmus students I met at The Crane a few weeks ago at the Trad Fleadh, then I taught their dance lesson as an impromptu substitute for Gillian, then I met more during the Gaelic weekend in Carraroe.  Basically, we hung out eating yummy Austrian food and listening to (questionable) Austrian music, whilst Sophie and her friends wore traditional Austrian clothes.  I had an excellent time!  :)

yummy but blurry schnitzel and kartoffeln!

I didn't really do much on Saturday outside of finish my ice cream, visit the market, and poke around Charlie Byrne's Bookshop, but on Sunday, I went on my first hill walk!  At first, I thought I wanted to do the long hike with Sophie, but then the leader convinced me to go on the medium walk with some of the other Erasmus students, but then I psyched myself out looking at the range we'd be walking.  Little girl from Ohio = not topography savvy.  So, I opted for the short walk, and I'm glad I did.  It was still gorgeous, and I could appreciate the beauty because I wasn't dying on my feet, you know?  It was a great group of people, too.  Here are some pictures from that adventure: 

our group at the top!

"in memory of the man who died here during the famine years."

the lake after the sun came out!

if memory serves, we were walking around maumtransa north in co. mayo.

baaaaaa!
   

It was really an excellent, although tiring experience.  You can walk really quite a long distance when you're wandering through the glacial till of Ohio, plus we have paths guiding you and helping your feet.  It takes so much energy to get yourself up a hill without a path through a bog trying to find the best way but still keep moving.  It was life-changing, really, and I'm only sad I probably won't be able to do it again when I'm over here.  My faithful boots, those wonderful things that got me through last year's herptastic spring break and a summer as a Naturalist in the Glen and a rainy semester in Oberlin, have finally kicked it.  The soles are peacing out, tearing off from the rest of the shoe, way before I'm ready.  So, boo hoo, but I'm glad I had this experience when I did.

(And as a side-note, the title of this post translates directly to "woman of the hills" but it's pronounced "banshee" with a soft d-sound at the end.  It's actually where the word "banshee" came from, because in fairy-lore, a woman from the hills would come keen for you upon your death if you were native-Gaelic and had served your people well, but she wouldn't wail for the English.  Just your random, interesting factoid of the day.)