Some of this is bizarre. Especially the part about hating Europeans. I don't think that was true even when I wrote it. I was just upset I had to leave Dublin and the week in Ireland was over. I really don't get all the anger. If you haven't seen the two other posts about this trip, take a look. The first one has pictures.
As usual, spelling, grammatical, factual, and emotional errors have been preserved.
1-3-98
Sad as it was, I had to depart from Dublin yesterday. I woke up early just so I could spend a little more time in the city that I love. Almost left my gloves, had to go back & get them. Really worth mentioning? Really? Now that I look back on it, Friday was really interesting. Daren was from New York State. He had a job as some sort of counsellor, I can't remember exactly what it was, but he took two months of unpaid leave to come to Europe and to also get away from his boss. He seemed to me younger than he was. I made the comment about how he was missing on the 26 & under deals. Iarnrod Eireann Irish railway gives a 60% discount to ISIC International Student Identity Card holders with a travelsave stamp - covers Bus Eireann as well. If Eddy Andrew hadn't been there, we could have had a nice conversation. The night was interesting none the less.
So yesterday I got up, went back for my gloves a SECOND mention?, cut through Temple Bar, past The Clarence Hotel & the Kitchen, down through the great clubs & pubs, out to the Liffey, to the bus station to check times. Then I went and sat on a bench on the North Side of the Liffey and ate breakfast - bread & jelly & Tropicana Pure Premium (I spent almost $20 on the stuff during the week). The sun was magnificent as it shot its rays into the Liffey, only to have them bounce off and hit my face. It was a cold morning, but I was so happy. Then, I still had some time to kill, so I walked over to Windmill Lane Studio, which was just across the river from where I was. Much to my horror, some idiots had recently spray painted their names over a lot of the U2 stuff. Then I noticed that there were no security guards around. Edge must really have been there in August. Wow. So close, but so faraway. I spent no more than five minutes there. The magic was not as strong as it had been the first time. I forgot - I listened to North & South of the River while treking the quays of the Liffey - simply amazing.
After I left Windmill Lane, I went to the bus station. I took the next airport link, arriving too early to check in. I went up and got a danish and sat down, listening to Two Shots and Angels over & over again. Yawn. Then I checked in and went to the gate. I stared out the window at the city & its glorious mountains and couldn't help but cry, as I do now just thinking about it, and how I had to leave it. Yawn. The sun grasped the mountains, which had hold of the city, which had hold of me. It still does and may always. Still does. As soon as I boarded the plane, my mood soured. I didn't want to leave, then I had to sit by some fat, smelly Belgium the whole country? who was speaking Flemmish (felt like Phlemish) and everyone was speaking another language. I was leaving my English speaking haven for the continental world of mixed gibberish. *rolls eyes* I wanted to scream to them all, 'Speak English, speak English!' as my ethnocentric hormones raged with angry, frustration, and a sense that I was leaving just as I approached the gates of Heaven. OMG, ugh. On every level. Every word of that is stupid. I don't want to go back to Fluxembourg, mainland Europe, continent of cold people. Fluxembourg is the name in my satire stories I wrote about the school. I'd like to shove their damn icicles up their asses, or maybe their noses, into their frozen brains. Yeah, I don't know where this came from. It's just stupid. Leave me here, give me money, some friends, and leave me here forever. FOREVER. Maybe I've finally found a place where I can be happy. I just need my friends with me - although I don't miss them much now. Lynn more than others, but only at night. Maybe I'm destined to be alone. Shut up, whiner. God comforts me in these times. LOL. God. Good one. But then I'm missing the point. I can't be alone. I need these people more than they need me. Stupid. And I'm on the plane, not thinking a thought. Obviously. I'd had a dream during the week that I was on a plane that crashed. I felt the fear. I FELT the fear as if it were really happening. And I was truly scared. I don't want to die now. I want to go to Heaven more than anything LOL, but in a few years, not now. Maybe I can get some more people to come along with me. To the plane crash? I have been known to annoy people to the point where they give in. Huh? But I'm on the plane, thinking about the dream, recalling and refeeling the fear, and the thing that breaks it is my trust in God sigh and the kid next to me. Really cute kid. He got to go up to the cockpit. The decent took forever how was the descent? the plane wobbled, they got the duty free cart out too late, and my fear was at its max. I think this may have been the first time I felt a fear of flying. I wonder if it had to do with that dream. I REALLY don't like flying. Could a dream I had 15 years ago affect how I feel about it still today? Then we landed. Customs. Baggage. Exit.
Train - was afraid the BIJE wouldn't cover the route, and I had no money, but it did, so I was safe. Got on Lux train at Bruxelles Nord. Very crowded. We get outside Bruxelles and Brad M decides he had to go to the bathroom. I stared at him, unable to recognize him, for a few seconds. Then I got up & called his name. Everyone stared while we were talking, so I shut the door. That's another thing - nobody talks on those Belgian trains. Or French or German for that matter. In Ireland, even strangers will talk. (Love that country.) So I went up & sat with Brad the rest of the trip. We did a lot of continental Europe bashing. I've never not liked Europe so much. I still don't understand this. He travelled alone too. We talked about lonely nights. He saw a bunch of movies, I read. But he had a horrible time, and I loved every minute of it. Except waiting for the bus in Blarney and missing Cobh. And I didn't like Cork all that well. All two hours I stayed there? I should have stayed in Dingle, did the bike to Slea Head, then skipped Cork & Blarney. It wasn't worth the time. But most everything else was grand. (Can I just say I love Radiohead?) I bought some bread with the Flux I had, & spread some jelly on it (from Dingle) and ate in the Flux waiting room for my Differdange train. Why did I have to record this? I sat across from an older lady and a drunk guy came and sat next to here. I felt sorry for her. Then I realized i didn't even have to look outside, I just knew where Differdange was. Guess I've been here too long. I need my sense of bewilderment back; I need to rediscover a taste for continental Europe. I need a reason to be here. School isn't a reason? (I need some money badly too.) I'm a creep...what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. Guess I was listening to Radiohead at the time. I belong in Dublin, home to Paul & Dave & Larry & Adam. Home to Bono & the Edge & U2. Home to Joyce, Swift, Shaw, Doyle. Home to Guinness. Home to me.
Joyce. Let me pause to talk about Joyce and literature in general, as it helps understand one reason why I loved Ireland so much. My reading level was well-above the other students throughout my youth, and I had a gift for writing. In second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Dietrich, sent me to a young writers conference that put the idea that I could be a writer in my head. Over the years, I kind of forgot about that. I hated Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when we read it senior year of high school. I kind of hated reading in high school, which is odd to think about now. In college, I rediscovered a love for literature, and during this year in Luxembourg, I discovered an interest in writing. My trips to Ireland, where there is a healthy respect for literature (indeed, James Joyce was on the ten pound bill and is a national treasure), had a great effect on that.
I'm still not unpacked. I wasted a lot of time today. I was so tired last night, I couldn't unpack. I started to clean my shells and found worms in the conch. I'm still afraid to touch it. I pulled two dead ones out of the tunnels they had created using another shell - in no way would my hands touch them. I don't care if they are dead. They're in my trashcan now. WARNING: THIS NEXT PART IS STUPID. The shells aren't as cool as when I picked them up, but all I have to do is remember how I felt while I was collecting them - the freedom - freedom from the past, something I never got to do as a child; freedom from now which is now then but then it was now, school work, loyalty, confusion, being in the middle, Fluxembourg coldness, Andrea's problems, Erika's attitude, Hans & Julia, the MUDEC students & staff, the Dupays, April & Patricia, beer, half-hearted friends; freedom from the future, which I didn't let myself think about. It was MY time, my freedom. This sentiment isn't stupid. Even though I wrote what I felt poorly, I get it. Walking along that beach, all that existed were the hills, the water, the shells, the colors, dusk, the stone ruins, those cows, and me - nothing else except God. And Ireland. I hope I never forget that feeling.
I got some story written today. It's about ten pages now, but I stumbled upon a block. It was stupid, but the writing was going well, and I decided to take a shower. I came back and the pen wouldn't write. I had U2 on the brain. Love that band. I love a lot of things, but right now, Fluxembourg is way down on the list. Well, MUDEC is way, way, way down on the list, but I'm still grateful for this opportunity. It's eleven, the eyes are heavy, CDs & postcards cover my bed, and I have to get up in the morning. Merde.
I have a theory about this entry. Until this week in Ireland (and including some of it), I went mostly to tourist sites and hadn't really had many "local" experiences, especially going with fellow MUDEC students. I was still shy about talking to strangers, but it was easy to do so in a country that spoke my language, so I had better experiences with local people in Ireland. So I think I understand why I wrote these things, though back then I didn't understand why I knew them.
As usual, spelling, grammatical, factual, and emotional errors have been preserved.
1-3-98
Sad as it was, I had to depart from Dublin yesterday. I woke up early just so I could spend a little more time in the city that I love. Almost left my gloves, had to go back & get them. Really worth mentioning? Really? Now that I look back on it, Friday was really interesting. Daren was from New York State. He had a job as some sort of counsellor, I can't remember exactly what it was, but he took two months of unpaid leave to come to Europe and to also get away from his boss. He seemed to me younger than he was. I made the comment about how he was missing on the 26 & under deals. Iarnrod Eireann Irish railway gives a 60% discount to ISIC International Student Identity Card holders with a travelsave stamp - covers Bus Eireann as well. If Eddy Andrew hadn't been there, we could have had a nice conversation. The night was interesting none the less.
So yesterday I got up, went back for my gloves a SECOND mention?, cut through Temple Bar, past The Clarence Hotel & the Kitchen, down through the great clubs & pubs, out to the Liffey, to the bus station to check times. Then I went and sat on a bench on the North Side of the Liffey and ate breakfast - bread & jelly & Tropicana Pure Premium (I spent almost $20 on the stuff during the week). The sun was magnificent as it shot its rays into the Liffey, only to have them bounce off and hit my face. It was a cold morning, but I was so happy. Then, I still had some time to kill, so I walked over to Windmill Lane Studio, which was just across the river from where I was. Much to my horror, some idiots had recently spray painted their names over a lot of the U2 stuff. Then I noticed that there were no security guards around. Edge must really have been there in August. Wow. So close, but so faraway. I spent no more than five minutes there. The magic was not as strong as it had been the first time. I forgot - I listened to North & South of the River while treking the quays of the Liffey - simply amazing.
After I left Windmill Lane, I went to the bus station. I took the next airport link, arriving too early to check in. I went up and got a danish and sat down, listening to Two Shots and Angels over & over again. Yawn. Then I checked in and went to the gate. I stared out the window at the city & its glorious mountains and couldn't help but cry, as I do now just thinking about it, and how I had to leave it. Yawn. The sun grasped the mountains, which had hold of the city, which had hold of me. It still does and may always. Still does. As soon as I boarded the plane, my mood soured. I didn't want to leave, then I had to sit by some fat, smelly Belgium the whole country? who was speaking Flemmish (felt like Phlemish) and everyone was speaking another language. I was leaving my English speaking haven for the continental world of mixed gibberish. *rolls eyes* I wanted to scream to them all, 'Speak English, speak English!' as my ethnocentric hormones raged with angry, frustration, and a sense that I was leaving just as I approached the gates of Heaven. OMG, ugh. On every level. Every word of that is stupid. I don't want to go back to Fluxembourg, mainland Europe, continent of cold people. Fluxembourg is the name in my satire stories I wrote about the school. I'd like to shove their damn icicles up their asses, or maybe their noses, into their frozen brains. Yeah, I don't know where this came from. It's just stupid. Leave me here, give me money, some friends, and leave me here forever. FOREVER. Maybe I've finally found a place where I can be happy. I just need my friends with me - although I don't miss them much now. Lynn more than others, but only at night. Maybe I'm destined to be alone. Shut up, whiner. God comforts me in these times. LOL. God. Good one. But then I'm missing the point. I can't be alone. I need these people more than they need me. Stupid. And I'm on the plane, not thinking a thought. Obviously. I'd had a dream during the week that I was on a plane that crashed. I felt the fear. I FELT the fear as if it were really happening. And I was truly scared. I don't want to die now. I want to go to Heaven more than anything LOL, but in a few years, not now. Maybe I can get some more people to come along with me. To the plane crash? I have been known to annoy people to the point where they give in. Huh? But I'm on the plane, thinking about the dream, recalling and refeeling the fear, and the thing that breaks it is my trust in God sigh and the kid next to me. Really cute kid. He got to go up to the cockpit. The decent took forever how was the descent? the plane wobbled, they got the duty free cart out too late, and my fear was at its max. I think this may have been the first time I felt a fear of flying. I wonder if it had to do with that dream. I REALLY don't like flying. Could a dream I had 15 years ago affect how I feel about it still today? Then we landed. Customs. Baggage. Exit.
Train - was afraid the BIJE wouldn't cover the route, and I had no money, but it did, so I was safe. Got on Lux train at Bruxelles Nord. Very crowded. We get outside Bruxelles and Brad M decides he had to go to the bathroom. I stared at him, unable to recognize him, for a few seconds. Then I got up & called his name. Everyone stared while we were talking, so I shut the door. That's another thing - nobody talks on those Belgian trains. Or French or German for that matter. In Ireland, even strangers will talk. (Love that country.) So I went up & sat with Brad the rest of the trip. We did a lot of continental Europe bashing. I've never not liked Europe so much. I still don't understand this. He travelled alone too. We talked about lonely nights. He saw a bunch of movies, I read. But he had a horrible time, and I loved every minute of it. Except waiting for the bus in Blarney and missing Cobh. And I didn't like Cork all that well. All two hours I stayed there? I should have stayed in Dingle, did the bike to Slea Head, then skipped Cork & Blarney. It wasn't worth the time. But most everything else was grand. (Can I just say I love Radiohead?) I bought some bread with the Flux I had, & spread some jelly on it (from Dingle) and ate in the Flux waiting room for my Differdange train. Why did I have to record this? I sat across from an older lady and a drunk guy came and sat next to here. I felt sorry for her. Then I realized i didn't even have to look outside, I just knew where Differdange was. Guess I've been here too long. I need my sense of bewilderment back; I need to rediscover a taste for continental Europe. I need a reason to be here. School isn't a reason? (I need some money badly too.) I'm a creep...what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. Guess I was listening to Radiohead at the time. I belong in Dublin, home to Paul & Dave & Larry & Adam. Home to Bono & the Edge & U2. Home to Joyce, Swift, Shaw, Doyle. Home to Guinness. Home to me.
Joyce. Let me pause to talk about Joyce and literature in general, as it helps understand one reason why I loved Ireland so much. My reading level was well-above the other students throughout my youth, and I had a gift for writing. In second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Dietrich, sent me to a young writers conference that put the idea that I could be a writer in my head. Over the years, I kind of forgot about that. I hated Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when we read it senior year of high school. I kind of hated reading in high school, which is odd to think about now. In college, I rediscovered a love for literature, and during this year in Luxembourg, I discovered an interest in writing. My trips to Ireland, where there is a healthy respect for literature (indeed, James Joyce was on the ten pound bill and is a national treasure), had a great effect on that.
I'm still not unpacked. I wasted a lot of time today. I was so tired last night, I couldn't unpack. I started to clean my shells and found worms in the conch. I'm still afraid to touch it. I pulled two dead ones out of the tunnels they had created using another shell - in no way would my hands touch them. I don't care if they are dead. They're in my trashcan now. WARNING: THIS NEXT PART IS STUPID. The shells aren't as cool as when I picked them up, but all I have to do is remember how I felt while I was collecting them - the freedom - freedom from the past, something I never got to do as a child; freedom from now which is now then but then it was now, school work, loyalty, confusion, being in the middle, Fluxembourg coldness, Andrea's problems, Erika's attitude, Hans & Julia, the MUDEC students & staff, the Dupays, April & Patricia, beer, half-hearted friends; freedom from the future, which I didn't let myself think about. It was MY time, my freedom. This sentiment isn't stupid. Even though I wrote what I felt poorly, I get it. Walking along that beach, all that existed were the hills, the water, the shells, the colors, dusk, the stone ruins, those cows, and me - nothing else except God. And Ireland. I hope I never forget that feeling.
I got some story written today. It's about ten pages now, but I stumbled upon a block. It was stupid, but the writing was going well, and I decided to take a shower. I came back and the pen wouldn't write. I had U2 on the brain. Love that band. I love a lot of things, but right now, Fluxembourg is way down on the list. Well, MUDEC is way, way, way down on the list, but I'm still grateful for this opportunity. It's eleven, the eyes are heavy, CDs & postcards cover my bed, and I have to get up in the morning. Merde.
I have a theory about this entry. Until this week in Ireland (and including some of it), I went mostly to tourist sites and hadn't really had many "local" experiences, especially going with fellow MUDEC students. I was still shy about talking to strangers, but it was easy to do so in a country that spoke my language, so I had better experiences with local people in Ireland. So I think I understand why I wrote these things, though back then I didn't understand why I knew them.
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