Adventuring Phoenix

Still Not Home (but I Have the Power).

It’s been almost two weeks (or over two weeks? I don’t even know) since I’ve been home, and while I want to regale this blog about my last few days in Dublin, what it felt like to leave Dublin, how much I fell in love with Dublin, and how I was accosted by a French man who wanted to have children with me… I just haven’t yet.

I was planning on doing it the first day I got home. But then my stepdad accidentally watered my laptop (my mom opened my window and he didn’t look where the sprinklers went) and so $1200 later, I became the proud owner of an iPad to get work done on my presentation for Comic Con, which was exactly a week after I flew in from Paris.

And then yesterday was the ten year anniversary of my dad’s death. Right between the eyes, but my feet are firmly on the ground.

And that’s what Europe taught me: I had the power to leave and go almost halfway around the world for a month and a half so. I left the instability of my daily life, some super shitty people who I spent too much of my now-realized too little free time, my mom, Sara, and everything I ever knew in hopes that I could become a fully actualized person.

That didn’t happen. What DID happen was that I realized my own power. I already knew a bit too well that I had the power to leave, but my travels taught me that I also have the power to stay (Joyce’s “Eveline” probably helped that one too). I have the power to change myself and make the best out wherever I am.

I GOT THE POWER TO FIX MYSELF. No place or person or anything is going to magically fix everything. I have to have enough belief in myself to change my own life.

So, to contradict the last five minutes: Europe changed my life. By making me see that I could change mine.

I’ll update eventually. I’m still not completely up for productive things because I’m working five days a week and I’m still tired from Europe and Comic Con.

Things That Dublin Has Taught Me.

1. I’m not as awful of a person as I had thought.
2. Right now I enjoy writing (usually) more than reading, but…
3. I want/need to read more.
4. Ulysses will be a book that I play with for the rest of my life. Same with Finnegans Wake.
5. Having access to a washer, dryer, vacuum, cleaning supplies, and other similar things are never to be taken for granted.
6. I need to get rid of some crap in my life (things, old habits, some negative people).
7. I’m a good planner when I want to be.
8. Life has been moving too quickly.
9. Always leave more room in your suitcase.
10. California is home.
11. I have a reinstated love for photography again.
12. I find my dad wherever I travel.
13. I need to come to Ireland again.

Living in a Tourist Attraction.

For the past five weeks I have been living on a tourist attraction, and it’s been… interesting.

Here’s where my room is located:

That looks like a postcard if the bikes weren’t there.

It looks out to the center square of Trinity College, where tourists from all over the world come with their camera, occasional fanny packs, and plenty of bags from Carrol’s (a souvenir chain of stores). While walking to my room, I’ve talked to more than a few visitors. Usually I’m pointing them to an ATM, and occasionally I have to point them in the right direction for which exit to use at night (there’s one to use after 6 P.M. and then there’s another to use after midnight). Most of those one-on-one interactions were nice, normal interactions.

BUT. Tourists en masse are kind of terrifying.

I didn’t think that they would shank me—not that kind of terrifying (and in that case, they are probably more scared of me than I am of them) but in a claustrophobic kind of GET OUT OF MY HOUSE sort of way (obviously this isn’t my house, and I don’t really lay any sort of claim on the dorm I’ve basically been borrowing, but I really like it here, and it does feel pretty home-y at this point). Sometimes group can be quite loud, and it can be an obstacle course to get around different groups of highly-distracted individuals when you have minutes to get to the fourth floor of the Art’s Building across the way to go to class. Large groups taking pictures can be the worst, because they aren’t aware of their impeding of anybody’s way, because “It will only take a minute!” to take a picture that will probably spend more time on their computer than looked at.

It makes me think about my own traveling practices. Am I considerate to locals wherever I travel, or do I try to get my money’s worth and do any- and every-thing to get that picture perfect moment?

And then what about picture perfect moments? Aren’t they distracting from the actual enjoyment of a place? It makes me think of Don DeLillo’s White Noise, where everyone HAS to see the most photographed cottage, and people only see the cottage as an object to photographed instead of an experience to see and feel. I think this happens a lot, and I don’t know if it has more to do with photography being so much more easy now, or if it says more about human’s weakening or changing connectivity to places and things.On this trip, I’ve used my camera less fervently than I have in the past when I was traveling, and I think that this time I ended up SEEING more into things, and seeing more of myself when I spent more time having my eyes directly see things instead of letting images be filtered through my camera lens.

A List For Next Time.

There is not enough time to do all of the things that I want to do while I’m in Ireland, so I’ll just make a list of the things I wish I would have had time for.

1. Belfast and Giant’s Causeway: I saw a lot of pretty pictures of the Causeway, and Belfast has the Titanic Museum which kind of sounds awesome (I was in love with the Titanic before and after the movie came out).
2. River Liffey Tour: I love the idea of a river being a main character of a book, and I think it would have been cool to have become acquainted with her, as I mostly met her huband, Howth Castle and Environs.
3. Howth Castle: So I could have been properly introduced.
4. Dublin Writer’s Museum: There was no time, and I pretty much want to cry myself to sleep.
5. Ghost Tours that aren’t dumb bus tours: Need I say more?
6. More time at the National Museum:It was really cool, but I had to leave early to do homework.
7. Sweny’s: I went there three or four times, and the pharmacist was never there.
8. National Library: I want to find a way to work with/look at manuscripts. I think it would be really interesting.
9. The countryside: I really wish I would have been able to venture out of Dublin a bit more, and see all of the different kinds of communities that aren’t as cosmopolitan as Dublin.
10. So many old churches and cathedrals and museums and everything.

Fathers’ Day in Ireland.

I stopped liking Fathers’ Day on July 4th, 2002 when I was told that my father had less than six months to live.

He died on the 20th of July, and next month will be ten years. He’s been on my mind a lot, as he really wanted to go to Ireland and didn’t get to, and was the person (along with my wonderful mother, obviously) who instilled a love of travel and disdain for boredom that lead me to go on this trip.

Fathers’ day is tough, and honestly I was hoping that they didn’t celebrate it here, so that I didn’t have to scowl but inwardly scream at all of the signs and cards and families. These responses have gotten better, but my nose turns pink with upset even writing about Fathers’ Day, right now.

Yes, Fathers’ Day was last week, but you’re being caught up, so bear with me.

My group of friends were aware of my… dislike? for Fathers’ Day, and so we decided to not do homework so much as to celebrate life. Kelsey and I were going to go to Mass, because we were both raised Catholic, and my dad and I prayed the rosary immediately before he died. So, complications with religion were going to be put aside to honor our childhoods. Then we were going to go to Phoenix Park, because my nickname is Phoenix, and there’s a statue of Oscar Wilde there, and then we would go to the zoo.

And then nothing worked out.

The Mass we were planning to attend doesn’t happen during the Summer, and by the time Kelsey, Lindsay, Cesar, and I finished eating, it was only a couple of hours until the zoo would close (it was Sunday) and so we just got an ice cream and I thought we were going to call it a day. I figured I’d just take myself to St. Stephen’s Green and write postcards or do something while feeling melancholic by myself.

Nope.

My friends and I ended up going to Phoenix Park, because all didn’t have to be lost as the clock ticked on. We saw a squirrel that I made friends with:

His name is Herman.

The scenery was pretty, and I took some pictures that made me happy, such as:

And then this one:

…which I took right after we realized I was mistaken about there being an Oscar Wilde statue in Phoenix Park. But my friends just laughed, they were honest to God not mad and we just kept walking. And it was nice.

We read and wrote postcards and took pictures with the only sign that said Phoenix Park that we could find:

When Kelsey and I got home at six, I realized that I really wanted to go to church. I haven’t been to church since probably high school, maybe once or twice in college, and my history with religion is another blog post entirely, but I found a mass that was at seven, and I really wanted to go. Everybody was going to go to a musical pub crawl, and Kelsey was going to go too, but then she decided to come. We put our heads together and found directions and kept our heads together to figure out the directions. We got there, lit a candle each, and entered the church.

We awkwardly genuflected and entered pews that were too small for our American selves. I remembered a little more than half of the words, and the service ended in a half hour. It wasn’t as funny or witty as the ones we both went to back home, but we chalked it up to it being a later service. I’m thinking about going back, but here are some pictures of Our Lady of Mount Carmel:

St. Jude was my Confirmation saint.

The Casket of St. Valentine?:

The day didn’t go according to plan, but I think that that was the best way I could ever celebrate. Whenever my dad made plans, they always worked out, but never in the way we expected. My day went as it would have if he was still alive: say we were going to church and not go, ate ice cream and walked around, went to the park, and then ended up going to church. It was a nice day, and Kelsey going to church with me was one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.

Bloomsday.

Bloomsday is a kind of (IT’S REAL, REALLY) holiday on June 16th, the day that James Joyce’s Ulysses is set. 

This year, there were many different things that one could do on Bloomsday, and my roommate and I were determined to do as many as possible. AS MANY AS POSSIBLE. But, we’re also not the most thorough of planners (and over-planning would be counter-productive to the spirit of Ulysses being set over the course of a day, because it’s celebrating the joy of the everyday, the heroism of day to day existence), we scrawled down a list of things we wanted to do, promptly left the list at home, and hit the streets with our Bloomsday survival kit to suggest what to do and when to make the best of our day.

We adventured and Odyssey’d.

Our day began at our favorite breakfast place, giggling into our sugared waffles with our friend Matthew. We then went to the Temple Bar book market:

and bought a sexy book, like Bloom (the main character) did during his day. Kelsey bought Lady Chatterly’s Lover and I bought Ideas in Psychoanalysis: Sadomasochism. Yep.

Then we putzed around Temple Bar’s food market, regretted already eating, and visited with a character from another of Joyce’s books: A.L.P., also known as the River Liffey.

We bumped into a hostel that’s called Barnacle, which happens to be the adorable last name of Joyce’s life partner and later wife, Nora Barnacle. Kelsey and I posed with the sign:

We then walked to the Joyce Center up O’Connell Street, and found a Joyce statue. Pictures were taken:

Our trio become a foursome when we bumped into our friend Stephanie while we were going and she was leaving the James Joyce Center. We didn’t end up participating in much of their activities—it was really packed with a lot of people who weren’t sure how they wanted to celebrate Bloomsday, but we knew that we didn’t want to spend it in line, so I took a picture with a James Joyce lookalike and called it a day.

HE LOOKED LIKE JOYCE A LOT:

Before we left, we saw the first few pages ofUlyssesacted out, which was interesting:

Then we got candy and took a nap, because I was super sick and achy.

THEN we went to what we thought was going to be the entire play of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at St. Stephen’s Green, but it turned out to be an excerpt that took six minutes. We bumped into Lindsay, Cesar, Matthew and Chelsea at the park and took a Hely’s men picture, because our Bloomsday survival kit told us to:

We then dressed up in period clothing (1904 clothing) and briefly went to Bloomsnight and then walked around dressed up as the coolest kids. Pictures:

It was a good night.

Joyce Conference.

So, this is again two weeks late (but I didn’t NEED to post because I was caught up… I promise!) This is more for my mom, because I know she’s reading this.

The Joyce Conference went really well. It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to say about Joyce’s “Eveline,” and honestly I didn’t figure it out until I came here. When I read the story, it hit a really personal note, and I didn’t know why, but I wanted to find out. I knew she was haunted by something, and I didn’t know what… but I did relate to her, and I know of plenty of things I am haunted by, and so by some personal excavation and deep readings and too many euros of research books later, I finished a paper that I was pretty proud of 36 hours before I presented.

I presented at nine in the morning on Tuesday, June 12th, and a lot of my friends came to support me. They took up almost half of the audience. Even an author/scholar/nice person that I met came and asked me a question, which also made me pretty happy.

I was nervous through the question and answer section, because at first no one asked me questions, and then when they did, I was flustered. I was told I did well, and for my sanity’s sake, I’m going to believe that.

After my presentation, my friend Lindsay presented at time slot right after mine, so fun was had. The whole conference was a great experience, and we had somebody from Cal State Fullerton present every day of it.

PICTURES:

We’re all pretty much awesome.

Ladies’ Night.

This is super late too, but let’s talk about night life!

Two weeks ago was Ladies’ Night (and the guys felt so threatened that they made a Stag Night in response… which later joined the Ladies’ Night because Stag Nights only end in tears, obviously) and it was pretty much awesome. Kelsey and I got ready with Lindsay and Jenni who are amazing, and the room was filled with ”No, you are NOT fat,” and “Jesus Christ, Kelsey, you looked good in the other dress. Stop complaining about how hot you are,” and also “Where’s my red lipstick/dress/eyeshadow brush/skills for doing make up and hair?” 

It was really nice.

We went to Whelan’s, which has become a go-to, because they have a dance floor and a concert venue (which we haven’t seen much music at, because we saw a really weird band the first time, and we haven’t tried again) and it has a really nice feel to it. 

Drinks were drank, dancing was danced, any debauchery was debauched.

It was nice to get to know people outside of class, and I love how there was a general feeling to make sure that everyone had a good time, and nobody was out of the loop. I really appreciated how even a setting that, sans drinking, would basically remind me of a high school dance, our group was kind to one another. Everybody danced with each other, and it was beautiful.

Bonding was bonded.

I don’t know if it’s the country, the experience, or a combination of just LIFE rightright now, but it’s pretty nice. Here’s some more pictures:

Kelsey, Armando, Andrea, and I stayed until closing, which was three, and then walked around until five or so, and the just-sunken sun came up to taunt us as we made our way to Trinity.

Powerscourt and Wicklow County.

I’m still really behind in catching this thing up with pictures and commentary and goodness, so I’ll just describe with pictures and a bit of commentary. Like a picture book!

This is especially for my mom, who would be in love with this part of the world, and I can’t wait to take her here.

We did a bus tour, with the wonderful Sean Finnegan (he was our tour guide before), and we went all around trying to get the best out of our day. I’m completely convinced that that was his mission for the day, and I think that he succeeded.

First we went to Dalkey, which is pretty literary, having housed many Irish authors there (and Enya… ENYA!).

Dalkey’s Public Library, looking spiffy, as I’d suspect it would.

Pretty sure this is a castle that we weren’t able to get into. It’s pretty though!

Then we went to Powerscourt, which is a highbrow shopping center and ridiculously beautiful collection of gardens that made me feel like I was on the set of a Masterpiece Theatre production:

and we’re done for Powerscourt, except for this one:

Next, we were going to check out a pretty vantage point that overlooks two lakes of Wicklow County, but it was so foggy and cold, that Sean Finnegan had to point out where everything was, and we had to use our imaginations as we shivered and looked out at thick mist that looked like paper.

I tried to smile, reallyreally.

And then we ate, which was delicious, and not COMPLETELY overpriced… and then we went to a monastery that was mostly a pretty cemetery. It was St. Kevin’s Monastery, and it was pretty beautiful. The grounds were a place where people could make a pilgrimage to, and going seven times would be the equivalent of going to Rome as a Catholic. St. Kevin was a hermit from the sixth century, and the grounds were very well kept until some pesky (read: awful) British invaders decided to mess things up in the fourteenth century. To this day it is still a treasured place, and people are still being buried there (though not too many more—it’s been in use for over a century, so there are only a few more people who made it on a list to be buried with their loved ones).

Being raised Catholic and a daughter of a gardener, as well as a lover of cemeteries, this place was breathtaking:

This is where they used to keep relics!

And then we were able to walk around for a bit…

It’s glowing because my camera lens was fogged. It had a cool effect though!

All in all, a lovely day trip.