Totally Wilde

Finally, finally, FINALLY I get to write about my classes. Why on Earth did I wait so long? Because class here doesn't start until it's almost freakin' October! Okay, sorry. High school drama queen moment over.

Started the day off right with the "family meeting" (I assigned room checks for this week) and a staff meeting (the little cooks slept through it). Next, I scampered off with my screen shot google map to find Tomb Street. Yes, I informed everyone on my way out where I was headed because, well, I guess I don't have a good reason, I was just a little freaked out with the idea of looking for a warehouse on Tomb Street. 

On the walk there (a walk on which I did not get lost but did ask several very unhelpful people for directions. SO glad that for once I listened to my inner traffic director and not the general public), I ran into this lovely clock. 

Don't worry. Found Royal Mail and picked up my package without being kidnapped or mugged. Then to class! Yes of course I got lost. Just so you know, my 2 o clock was actually my 4 o clock and vice versa. The poetry master's program participants were very kind though...

Once I found the correct room--the office up five flights of stairs, even though it's technically the third floor of the third building, the one you can't actually get to from the third building--I started in on my first class of my master's program with Dr. Eamonn Hughes (resident fire warden, by the way. He has a neon slicker to prove it): Irish Writing from 1920-1960. We're calling it the middle child syndrome era of Irish literature because it's a bit forgotten. It's not so far away in history that it's interesting and it's not so close to now that it's modern. 

Through a series of questions, it became evident to my professor that I hadn't a spark of an idea about...anything. I'd read the introductory chapters he'd assigned, but I don't have a literature or a history degree, and I'm not Irish. Thus, class number one was spent on Irish history lessons from the 1900s on. Did you know that Ireland could be considered both a colony and also not a colony? It can. 

The view, one stair flight down from Dr. Hughes' office: 

Somebody get me a singing chimney sweep. 

My next class--down 5 flights of stairs, over three hallways, up one flight of stairs, around a bend, down a flight of stairs, take a left--is Wilde to Heaney. The first few sessions are taught by Dr. Sinead Sturgeon. She's the loveliest little creature. 

Today, she waltzed into class with a tray of wee, wee goblets, announced that we were to celebrate at 5 properly, but first, my presentation. I hadn't done any outside reading (note: do for next time) but I had read and taken notes extensively and felt really confident about my topic. I discussed Wilde in relation to social justice, religion vs. God, nature vs. nurture, tied them all together, and weaved them through a myriad of his short stories. It was actually really fun. 

17:10: actual event: Sinead: "What sets Wilde aside in this sphere is that his structure--Oh goodness, the sherry! It's time!!" Then out of her bag, she pulls out a bottle of sherry and serves us. We spent the next hour drinking sherry and debating Oscar Wilde. 

Four plus hours in class. You'd think I'd be ready to scream. I loved it. I think this is going to be really fun. 

Going for Adventure on the Big Blue Wet Thing

That Muppet Treasure Island references goes out to my best friend Caity Ruth Roberts, as it is the theme movie of our friendship and her birthday today. Yah, yah, I'll get to Ireland, but this movie. My brother Chon and I used to watch it together on this crappy VHS version we had that was taped off Disney channel.

Then it was the treasured film of my senior year and Caity, Taylor Pride, and I used to quote it all the time with one another. Still do. And I also still snort-laugh just thinking about it. Cait and I even considered doing a song from it for our school's Senior Farewell.

THEN, first day, first class of college (to which I was late and, thus, last to introduce myself), I didn't want to name Pride and Prejudice as my favorite movie like at least three of the other girls did, so I said MTI. There may have been some quoting or singing, I don't recall, but it did jumpkick a beautiful friendship between my Professor Rabbi and me. One that I will always value.

NI: Yes, we went down to the big, blue wet North Coast.

First on the agenda was the rope bridge at Carrick-a-rede. This bridge was at one time used for fishermen wanting to catch salmon. However, years passed by, the salmon population diminished, and people loved the thrill of the bridge between the rocks. To get down there is a journey of about a mile, in which you walk down 161 steps (my calves remember perfectly) and some road as well.

Oh a picture? Is that what you want? Okay. If you insist. I don't have one of the bridge itself, but I do have a couple of the locale:

The first two of these pictures are the small islands to the left of the bridge. I think they're called Shepherd's Islands. It's the third picture where the bridge stretches between the first two big cliffs. 

Look at that water. Seriously. Clear, clear, clear. I absolutely love this area. Aside from Newcastle, it's my favorite place to come. 

The bridge itself? Not a fan. I spend the entire time crossing thinking up escape routes from worst case scenarios. Once you're over though, it's soft grass and peace. Just as we were about to recross the bridge...

a huge pod of dolphins! Really. It was hard to count because they were never above water at the same time, but there were more than eight, just hopping about in the water as playful as can be. (insert Finding Nemo shark scene sentiments here).

Next was lunch. We figured we'd sack lunch it right there by Carrick-a-Rede, but Hadden insisted in taking us "somewhere prettier." What. How.

That's how. No words.

Then to Giant's Causeway! Giant's Causeway is a geological phenomenon which looks a bit like this, formed over an extensive time period by volcanic cooling.

I like it because of the folklore surrounding its creation. I wrote a whole piece about it in a collection of creative non-fiction I completed this past year. There were once two feuding giants... That's all I'll tell ya. 

A cool thing I discovered around one of the base of the columns was some odd orange staining which, upon closer inspection, seemed to be caused by corrosion of coins. Like throwing coins into a pond for good luck, people have stuck coins of all currencies into the cracks at the base of these columns. At places, the coins were still quite new. At others, they looked as though they had become part of the rock itself, folded over and porous. 

I love those kinds of things. My roommate would never make wishes with me at 11:11 or on shooting stars because she is very reasonable and also very correct, probably. But not me. It's not as though I believe that making a wish while holding your breath in a tunnel will come to anything, but there's an intoxicating air of...hope in it all and magic and childlike dreaminess. When I see fountains or cracks with coins, I always wonder what wishes they are and if they ever came true. 

We summed up the day with a visit to Dunluce Castle, which was the locale of inspiration for C.S. Lewis' Cair Paravel in his series of Narnia. 

My calf muscles have spent all of today screaming, but it was so worth it. I've missed the smell of the sea. I could have gone, breathed in the salt and seaweed, not seen any of these beautiful places, and been content. There's just something about the ocean.

RRRRRRRRegistered!

Some of you know the many, many trials and tribulations surrounding my enrollment to school. It has been quite the frustrating and futile experience. I am proud to announce, however, that I am officially a (legal) Queen's University student. And everybody said, "AMEN!"

I also met with my classmates today. All five of us. Seriously. Five. And four professors, so go figure that. Choosing our modules (aka courses): we all take a course on Irish Writing together (taught by all professors by turn) and we all choose one additional class.

Guess how many people are in my chosen elective module. Guessing???

Me. hahaha

Eamonn Hughes and I are going to be buddies. I've already told him.

By the way, I am giving a presentation on Monday, despite the fact that it will be the first time our class will meet. My nerdy side got ahead of me and volunteered before the rest of me could fall into place and realize just exactly when I would need to do this. I've been given no parameters. Just me, Oscar Wilde's short stories, and the wide open prairie of my presentation imagination.

Linda Drain (my emailing angel) then enrolled me in my classes and sent me on my merry way to be enrolled again (Required. Why?!).

Long story short, I am finally a student, I have a card that proves it, took two wrong buses today, and ended up walking three plus miles home during rush hour. That part was actually a wee bit fun...

Anyway, I am extraordinarily relieved that this whole long, drawn-out ordeal is complete and that I won't be kicked out of the country.

First Impressions

Raise your hand if you knew that was Jane Austen's original title for Pride & Prejudice.

Put your hands down, fools, nobody can see you.

*wee rant: Naturally loud people. The kind that want to talk-loudly and about the minutiae of the day's to dos--from the moment they wake up until they fall asleep, slam--accidentally or not--13 doors in the span of a half hour, and just make general noise noise noise all the live long day. I don't get that.*

Yesterday: Continuing on my postgraduate week of events (I attended book club monday and cupcake decorating tuesday), I went to a culture vulture breakfast yesterday morning. I met back up with a girl named Fiona, who looks like she's related to the Weasleys and that is just so cool, and we bonded with a man named Mark.

Together, after I spent a bit of time trying to understand the bowl of cocoa looking coffee powder Fiona tried to convince me was coffee if mixed with water. No. Anyway, the three of us talked over educational differences between our two countries as well as relational culture versus task-oriented culture, and, of course, alcohol, Christianity, and Chicago.

The afternoon, I spent with Oscar Wilde (whose short stories are absolutely wonderful, by the way) and a book entitled The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (for book club).

Next up on the agenda was an event I signed up for mid-summer, actually: Pride and Prejudice the musical. It was a hoot! Mr. Collins made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion and, I suppose because they were short-casted, the characters of Mary, Lady Catherine, and Anne were all doubles with the men who played Mr. Wickham and Mr. Bennett. Hysterical.

It was at this play that I met Emma and Tom. Emma is a Chinese Brit, named for Emma, knits My Little Pony and Pokemon characters (seriously talented in a bizarre way), has no problem throwing away books, and grabs the hair buns of strangers.
Tom doesn't dream, refuses to kill spiders, and has some very strong views about bees and their keeping--a subject matter which has oddly come up a lot recently.

Afterward, because I'd missed my bus and Elaine had graciously decided to come fetch me, I found myself walking back to Queen's from the theatre. On my way there, I was joined by three toga'd, drunk, sophomores. They kept asking me to join them to their party and just didn't understand when I told them I must disappoint. Though I never leave the house without a toga, I had been caught unawares and was thus togaless.

We got on charmingly until they asked after my gun-handling views. Apparently, pro-gun okies are not popular here. First impressions, eh?

And that only an inconsequential first impression. If they left that encounter thinking I was a gun-slinging cowgirl, that's okay with me. It's the first impressions that matter that concern me.

I am often told I have a dreadful first impression. I'm either too over-eager to be friends that I quite forget myself and don't track what I'm saying and come across as almost panicked for affection or I come across as stand-offish and painfully shy or some find me a terrible flirt (an alternative version of #1).

It doesn't bother me much that people generally remain wary of me until encounter 3 (where I'm told I become quite loveable). The problem is that sometimes I come across people who choose never to see past impression one.

With them, it doesn't matter how long they know me, in how many capacities, or referenced to positively by other people, they will always see panicked and frazzled and unreliable.

If I'm dating your ex, if I smack my gum, if I punched your grandmother in the face, please, dislike me. I'll be okay with it. The area I truly struggle in is when you dislike who you think I am and judge me because of it. There's no way for me to fix it. The Lord and I are working through a particular wrinkle in that area.

It is a humbling process as well as one which looks as though it will be very, very long in the making. What I'm learning is that I cannot work to try to make others see me for who I am. Rather, I have to live and follow after God, seeking his approval alone, and not think about it. Not ignoring them or be rude (which wouldn't happen if I'm truly following God) but not trying to change their minds.

I have to let go of that relationship and allow God to define my reputation. Not me.

So if I walk by a door and hear ungracious chatter about me, ok. If I am chastised unjusty, ok. And if it never gets better and the most that's ever managed is mutual toleration, ok. However, I believe that God is greater than alpha personalities, and if Darcy and Elizabeth could work through their first impressions of one another, surely it'll all turn right. :)

Tallyho for Tollymore!

Sum up from Friday:

• Made friends with two guys from Malta, two Swedes named Attila (yes, like the hun) and Sanna
• Went to a "ceila", which is a very lively Irish folk dance...thing. 
• Other technically "Jamie trying to become a legal student" nonsense. 

Now for Sunday! Sunday, instead of going to my normal church, I went with the students to Ballynahich Baptist. It was a lovely church, followed by, of course, tea. Then, a few ladies of the church had prepared lunch for us, so we supped together on--get prepared all you who ask me constantly about the Irish food--rice and curry chicken! hahaha. You actually thought I was going to say something Irish like roasted lamb intestine or something. 

There were potatoes, though, don't get me wrong. When in cooking doubt, eat potatoes and wash 'em down with tea. 

We washed it down with tea but also with some lovely desserts like this: 

I still have no idea what it was. There's some spun sugar Styrofoam type thing in the middle and a different for the crust and some kind of honeyed comb but not honeycomb and whipped cream. Not. A. Clue. But it was good! 

After lunch, we headed on toward Tolleymore Forest, the location used as the basis for C.S. Lewis' Narnia as well as JRR Tolkein's backdrop for the LOTR series. 

The last time I was in this lovely forest a year ago, I somehow ended up in a restricted section about a half mile away from the forest (and non-restricted zone) on someone's farm, turning around when I saw the "Trespassers will be shot" sign. What? How? Very good questions. Thank you for asking them. Moving on!

Maybe it's the forest and maybe it's me (and maybe it's Maybeline *cue Relient K) but I have some issues with farms and lostness. It happened again. I found some very lovely bridges, though, as well as this rock...thing. Both of which I never would have seen (no picture of the cool forbidden bridge). 

It reads: 

STOP 

Look around and Praise the Name of Him 

Who Made It All

When I was in the leadership program at New Life Ranch and we would go on hikes, they would always tell us, "Look up!" And we'd look up and see the way the light played with the different hues in the green and yellow leaves, but we never would have seen them if we hadn't been reminded. Instead, we would have been so focused on the ground right below and in front of us (and all the roots we were trying to avoid tripping on) that we would have kept on trudging with the beauty above unappreciated. 

I didn't see this stone. A girl I was with, Abbi, saw it. I passed straight by staring at the path, totally focused on trying to figure out way out of the forest. I didn't stop; I didn't look up. 

I'm always trying to find my way out, to seek out solutions, to stay on top of things, to maintain consciousness (again, cue Relient K) that I often get so completely enwrapped in my own head that I don't look around and see the beauty of God nor praise his name for it all. If I would, I'd probably get lost in far fewer forests, for I'd see the signposts just outside my lane of vision. 

A Start

I really ought to be gettin to bed, but I just have to give a wee post about this evening.

(Tomorrow or next I'll give into the past couple days of fun)

I've just got home from a "night in" with my friend Naomi. No, she's not someone I met this past week in orientation, she's a real life friend.

How did we happen?

Once upon a time, my buddy Kyle went to a school in Ecuador. His first grade teacher was a missionary by the surname Deering from Northern Ireland. Then, years go by and Kyle attends John Brown University, later to accompany a group of Family and Human Service Majors (and one minor) to Northern Ireland for a month, where he reconnects with his teacher.

On the Sunday he was to have lunch with them, he took me along. At the Deering home, I met Naomi, their daughter. Post this event, I added Naomi on Facebook only to never become accepted. :(

A year goes by.

Then, I get a facebook message out of the wild from Naomi, saying she'd seen something on Kyle's wall to suggest that I was to be in Belfast over Christmas (no idea what she saw) and that if I were to be here in September, she'd love to show me about.

This was in May, and I fully expected nothing to come of it. However, we continued to chat over the summer and, finally, hung out for the second in-person time ever. And, it should be noted, that she gave me my first hug since getting to NI . If you know me, you know that's an unreasonably long time to go without.

She picked me up, we went over to her auntie and uncle's, and drank tea, watched tv, and chatted. It was just very lovely and felt so normal, like we'd been friends all along.

I am so thankful.

What's funny, too, is that I've taken to introducing myself here as Ruth. No reason in particular except that I've always really liked my middle name. That makes us Ruth and Naomi.

This isn't my land or my people. We share a common God, but that's about all. Thus far, though, I feel like the biblical Ruth did toward Naomi. She had no one left but her, and she was willing to trust that following Naomi was worth her trust.

Knowing that there's someone in this country that cares about me personally changes things for me. I have someone to show me what's what, bake with me, watch stupid american sitcoms with me, eat pumpkin, and live life alongside.

Sound like I'm being a little far-fetched for a first date? Obviously, you've never been desperate for a friend. Furthermore, our friendship is also a little far-fetched, which leads me to believe--similar to my being here in the first place--that God's got a handle behind it.

The State of State

Day two of orientation. I was both on time and had a second miraculous experience with the buses, both there and back.

Not much of note today, save meeting Cecilia from Italy, Sanna from Sweden, Miriam from Germany, and Daniel from Bellavore. Or something like that. Poor Daniel. When he told me where he was from, I asked him if that was a country or a city. Somewhere crammed up there with Russia and Poland. I shall have to look it up.

Post orientation session and verification that I am, in fact, legal to study in this country, I went on a book hunt. I only have one of my classes' lists, but it is quite lengthy. Thanks to Joris, I knew of a few book shops near school. Two of them were lucky for me, though I deferred the purchases for store two for a different day.

At OxFam books, I found three sort of versions of the books I need. I say sort of because they're not exactly what I need but they suit my purposes. For example, rather than the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's short stories, I found the complete anthology of Oscar Wilde's works. Yes? Yes.

When I was checking out, the bookman noticed my wee notebook with book list written-in, asked if I were in a rush, then scampered off downstairs to the basement to check to see if any of them were there. Then, when they weren't, he pulled out a giant map of Belfast and traced directions (by way of landmark not north/south/east/west) to two shops he thought could be of use to me.

I am constantly shocked at the kindness of strangers.

Post hunt, I went about in the botanical gardens for a bit.

The green house contraption is full of cacti and hot plants. If you were not aware, I've a particular soft spot for cacti.

Most of today, though, I was homesick. I'm having a lovely time, don't get me wrong. It just so happens that even if your life at home is dull and drives you insane, when you leave it and someone asks you, "Where you from? What's it like?", you get into all the hot wee details about it--how your best friend lives within walking distance and has a cow pasture for a backyard and how you can hear the still-in-use oil rigs going if you go for a walk in quiet hours of the day and how the weather just before and just after a tornado is full and electric and tinges the world with green and how you can switch from country to small town to city within fifteen minutes and how you spent every summer as a mermaid in your backyard pool--and you remember why you loved it in the first place.

It's home. It may not be my home right now or even in the next few years, and it certainly did not give me that feeling of place and true belonging when I was there this summer, despite the presence of my wonderful family. But in my heart, always, there is Oklahoma.

The Wonderful Fun-derful No Bad Very Good Day

Today's self-motto was: Be courageous! Be bold! Be darling, be daring, make friends.

And, because it truly was a wonderful, fun-derful no bad very good day, I'm going to give you a wee play-by-play. No worries. It'll be sharp and,  hopefully, less than boring.

• I woke up in time for breakfast, ate chocolate o's, and did not kill any single one of the chirpy morning talkers. Really there was just one, but she's alive, folks! 
• Made it out to the bus stop at exactly the right time and got out at the correct bus stop. 
  
  (Who would have ever thought I would be the one at international orientation?)
• Met:
• Chelsea: Tulsan. (We're talking Oklahoman. What are the odds?!) Rides my bus, has lived here for 2 years due to her mom's job transfer, and is a first year. 
• Ryan: Texan. (I know. Weird. My first two meets are home turf). Here for a semester studying abroad for law. A third year student. Tall. Very. 
• Next came dumb American moment number 1: finding the correct line to stand in. In the end, I ended up in limbo and a very pretty, nice pregnant lady found my instruction letter for me. 
• [insert welcome intro here]
• Got shuffled to a new building for registration talk. Dumb American moment number 2: I was in the wrong building. Luckily, a very nice South Korean (of dentist studies) took the fall for the six or so of us who were in the wrong room and did not raise our hands when the room was asked, "Is there any of yoos who think you're gettin' a full degree here at Queen's? Well then, you're not in the right place." Had it not been for him, I would have stayed and been very attentive to things that absolutely did not pertain to me but that my pride wouldn't let me leave. :) 
• Lunch break. I went to a cafe called Sinnamon. THE RUMORS WERE TRUE: THEY HAD PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES THERE.
  
  Good. Moment. Had a lemon slice to attend my latte. It was like a dense, textured lemon pound cake with a thick layer of frost topped with I think coconut shavings. YUM. 
• Couldn't get the wifi to work, so I asked a guy with his phone out what magic he used to connect. Of course he was the owner...nice guy! And got on the internet. WOO
• Met: 
• An NI architect. Loves the rain, hates phone lingo. 
• Library tour. 
• THEY HAVE MAGICAL BOOKSHELVES. Bout 20 shelves all squished together, so you can't see the books at all. So, you press a button on either side of the open shelves and another button on the shelf you want open. Then PRESTO they slide closed and slide open. What. 
• My immediate first thoughts on bookshelves: 
1. Easy way to hide a body. (Okay Jamie. Maaaaybe you should ease up on the crime shows...)
2. Really cruel way to bully. (Hey kid, betcha can't fit in that empty shelf there! Bully closes shelf as soon as kid demonstrates ability)
3. The best hiding spot in hide and seek. (Would require partner. Preferably a new friend still trying to  make you like them and not a best friend. A best friend would close you in and leave you. I know. *Re: Broken-footed Hayhay deserted in a grocery cart in Walmart
• Met: 
• Joris. From Amsterdam, Holland. Originates from Volu, Holand. Studying Urban planning. Wears neon socks. I spent the most time with him based on his promise of knowing a street of bookshops. He did. :) 
• Again, reached the bus stop at exactly the right time and got off, for the first time, ladies and gents, at the correct bus stop! (and the crowd goes wild!) 

The end. Love Jamie. 

Looks like rain!

*crickets*

Okay, one day, someone is going to think that joke is funny.

Yes, it is another rainy day here in Northern Ireland. There's a weird thing about the rain here, though. It's not that it isn't wet, but it isn't normal rain. Or maybe it is normal rain and Oklahoma rain is abnormal.

The density and consistency is off somehow, as if they were dew drops instead of rain drops and falling at the speed of snowflakes. But thicker than a snowfall.

If you were to take an evening stroll in the midwest and it began to rain, you'd be soaked quickly and thoroughly. Not so here. You'd be very damp.

Because rainy days can be a wee bit depressing (yes, rain is lovely. I quite enjoy it. Days on end of rain, however...), I am keeping myself as busy as possible.

Yesterday and today have been spent organizing, writing, and reading.

"My, Jamie, what tidy linen closets you have!"
"All the better to appropriately outfit you with clean sheets and towels, my dear."

I have also been putting to good use book cover postcards that my sweet sister Cristin gave me. The proof of which is all over my face and hands. Ink and I have always had a way with one another. Though, personally, I think I look rather fetching with a goatee.

In addition, I've been spending time journalling and translating a chapter or so each day of the New Testament from French to English. Don't be impressed. My French is, in a general sense, very poor.

I love the way the scriptures unlock like little puzzle pieces (mixed metaphor. I'm okay with it) with the help of my dictionary. And I can't cheat if I happen to already know the scripture because it's worded in such a way as to make phrases I've read so many hundreds of times look new again.

Don't worry, I'm reading as well. This time I'm onto the autobiography of Maria Von Trapp of The Sound of Music fame. What a woman. And to think I supposed her to be fictional...

Well, that's about all for my rainy today. Don't mind me here as I wile away the rest of my afternoon in the sitting room with my cuppa tea, watching the awkward rain soak all of outside.

*Tomorrow international orientation begins! I am both totally floored and so anxious that I want to crawl under a couch and hide*

If You Give A Girl A Castle...

Continuing my series of saying yes to things, I said yes to a Saturday outing. Actually, I said no to the Saturday outing then changed my mind when one of the little cooks here said she would go if I would go. Sometimes all it takes to be brave is to know that someone is on your team.

*Saying "team" makes me miss my daddy. Growing up, my mom used to always say that my dad and I were in a club together. Mostly the club tag-team teases my mother and high-fives, but lemme tell ya. It's a good club. I found out years later that this club was really a way for my mom to bond me to my dad. It worked. Once a part of the club, always part of the club.

Anyway, the group of 14 headed  into the country (truly only 8 or so miles away, but the road and city set-up makes it seem like it's an impossible distance). Where we landed was a place called Hillsborough.

While there, we went on a tour of Hillsborough House (aka Hillsborough Castle). And no, it's not because it's in the hills that it's called so, but because the family of long-time ownership had the last name Hill. Tis true. Heard it from the tour guide herself! This is the place that the Queen visits or any other important person. 

This, my friends, is the castle (even though the church in the picture above looks more like my childhood fantasies). 

After tramping around the castle and its surrounding gardens, 

we went to a nearby fort (large grassy area with a wall around it) and its nearby lake: 

And, if you give a girl a castle, she's gonna want a waffle to go along with it. You know what I mean? 

Listen about this waffle. First of all, it's from a place entitled: Humble Pie, so obviously it gets points from location alone. 

Bottom to top: To waffle, add honeycomb (actual honeycomb) and vanilla ice cream, freshly whipped cream, toffee and chocolate chips and marshmallows, butterscotch syrup. 

What. 

Heaven is what. 

Heaven in my and Lauren's (you didn't think I ate all that by myself, did you?!) mouths. 

Came home from my waffle and castle ventures to a snuggly room and a skype date. A very long, very needed, very wonderful skype date. And, finally, sleep. The first time I've slept easily since my arrival. The perfect ending to an unexpectedly lovely day. 

Gettin' Wild

If anyone out there thought, at any point, that I was cool or normal, I need you to lay that high-minded idea to rest.

I am a thick glasses wearing, accidental hand inking, snort laughing nerd. Bookworm by day, wordsmith by night.

I tell you this  because I am going to nerd out for a moment. I've been working on an organization project. There were three full, full bookshelves in the library that were left to us and so totally unorganized. And, because organization happens to give me chills of joy and I needed to see if any of my coursebooks were hiding in those shelves, I gained permission to overhaul.

The Result of 3 days' work:

Far Left Case (starting from the top): 

• Bibles of all sorts
• Hymnals and books about hymns
• Derick Bingham (the deceased library's owner and prolific author)
• Religious books
• Bottom shelf are all Bible reference books

Middle case:

• General reference books about words and writing
• Books on Britain and travel
• Books on Ireland
• Fun books
• Poetry

Far Right Case:

• Art and history
• Bronte
• Tolkein and Tolstoy
• CS Lewis
• Winston Churchill
• Biographies

You're like, who cares, Jamie? You're in Ireland and all you can blog about are some dusty old books? I care! I love books and libraries and what they tell you about someone. 

For instance, I learned about Professor Bingham that he was enraptured by the Bronte sisters and Da Vinci and the story of the Irish people. He also had a thing for CS Lewis, but who doesn't? Not everyone has a book of his in Korean, though. Just sayin'. 

Yes Man.

Yes Woman to be precise.

My new plan is to say yes where I normally would say no. Okay, so last night's saying yes to the museum poetry discussion then backing out last minute was kind of antithetical to this plan, but today, while I was cheerily organizing the library bookshelves (my current project), Elaine asked if I'd like to join her to Lisburn.

"No thanks."

Then, despite my desire to not put on outing-acceptable clothing, I went. It was very good for me, I think. I spent a bit of time with Elaine, got out of Belfast in something other than a bus, and it was out of my comfort zone.

In Lisburn, I walked about the shopping area then found the words "Castle Gardens" on a sign-post heading up the road. Those are two words I like.

 Lisburn

 Garden and sunken gate

Why yes, sunken gate, I will enter you! 

It was approaching the time when I needed to head back to meet Elaine, but there is always time for a bakery...

I'm not all sure what was in this, but my best guess is lemon-caramel cupcake with chocolate drizzle and caramel popcorn topping. It was both odd and delectable, a sweet end to my outing. 

A Day in the Life

Would you like to hear my current favorite joke? Yah? Okay.
"Looks like rain!"

You're not laughing.
It's ok. I get it. No one else laughs at it either.
I, however, think it's hilarious. It always looks like rain, so...you know what? Forget it. My hilarity is lost on you.

Today was a day for adventure.
After a chat with my best friend (currently living in China), I was challenged with getting out of my house and exploring NI.

Therefore, I explored.

First, my travels took me to Belfast City Centre where I went about on a quest for Chinese and chocolate. I don't know where anything's about, so when I quest, I have to talk to a lot of locals. Actually, asking for directions is a great way to bond with locals.

My wanderings brought me three different PoundWorlds (don't even know why, they just felt less intimidating than anything else. and really? three? why three in the same centre? I had to find out.) and Chopstix.

DO NOT get Chinese food in Ireland. Such a bad idea. I don't even want to talk about it. This picture, though, is gold. My chocolate craving was solved by PoundWorld. They sell Nutella at PoundWorld. ZINGO. 

Then back home to a housefull of childrens (20 year old childrens). Oh, and I missed my bus stop again. 

Okay, okay, now the good part. So, a group of the students were going for a wee dander (short walk) out to a place called Giant's Circle. A big, old rock. I decided to join! 

The walk there was green, green, green and very near our home. We passed near Shaw's Bridge, and actually, you can rent canoes and kayaks there and a water polo set is right there in the river. Weird, yah? 

And the smell. MMM. The wet air was sweet and so familiar smelling but so out of context I couldn't trace it. It was the kind of smell you want to put in a vitamin water (never tried it. don't trust my judgement) or bottle and wear as a perfume or wrap in your arms and snuggle. 

We never found the rock, but we did find...

No caption necessary. :)

I finished out my big day by helping with curtains. Some people have really, really strong opinions about curtains. 2 hours worth of opinions. 

Future husband, future family, if they are functional, well-priced, and don't make me puke to look at 'em, the curtains in our home will find no animosity in me. 

I've a Stash. Shhh!

Good evening! And greetings to all of you who do not have the pleasure of living in the beautiful land of Norn Iron.

Although some of you reading may actually be residents here, I wouldn't know. I may not even know who all of you are.

Cheers all around, then! Welcome, welcome.

I think it's high time we have a good chat on tea, don't you?

As you can tell by my windowsill, tea and I are having a smashing tryst with one another. On average, I go through three to four cups of tea a day. It's the solution to cold, exhaustion, extroversion, sleepiness, need-to-get-sleepiness, and boredom and the perfect companion to a nice chat with a friend, a movie, or a book. Today it joined me while I finished-up PS I Love You.

Once you down a cuppa tea, though, and have snuggled down deep into a den of warmth, you are faced with a problem: the cup. Therein lies my current windowsill issue. I hoard my dishes and hide them with the curtain.

This is particularly ironic considering the fact that I am the one responsible for house tidiness and keep my students vigilant about their dish clean-up. Thus, the curtain.

But I ask you, my dear friends and compatriots, when faced with the task of maintaining a proper body heat for survival and you've finally regained feeling in your hands--minus your fingers. a lost cause, that one--would you venture into the frozen tundra that is your bedroom, hallway, and kitchen, to return a wee mug? I should think not.

I shudder to consider the alternative.

Shower Thoughts

We may read this very differently, but to me, those words are less a warning and more a promise. To that end, I have been deceived. My sink's water is many things, including refreshing, liquidy, and face-awakening in the mornings. It is not, however, "very hot." Or mildly warm. Or chilly. It is frigid. 

The shower on the other hand, is a completely different story. Well, first, about the shower. Elaine and I call it the wet room. In the wet room--which is the same size as my bedroom--there is a little sink in a corner, a toilet by the wall, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling, slightly concealing a shower head. 

Other than that slight curtain, though, there is no division. Thus, keep anything you want dry in the sink, as the entire room practically gets soaked during showers. The showers are very hot, actually, once you pull the right cord on the wall, of which there are 4. 

I feel like Indiana Jones choosing the Holy Grail or a character from The Emperor's New Groove trying to navigate the way to Ezma's secret lab. Choose the wrong cord and all sorts of terrible will surprise you in the form of glacier-like water. 

It's a little TMI, but I have a point. I like taking showers in the dark. Partially because I'm a morning showerer and it takes the edge off greeting the day and partially because I am not a fan of artificial lights (or fans. which is a pun and also the truth). 

The wet room, other than a ring-sized ring of light on the shower box, is completely dark, and you can't see anything when the light goes off. After a minute or so, though, you are able to discern shapes and shadows and see pretty competently. There's more light in the darkness than you expected at the start. 

I am lonely here. I'm not a JBU student, so I can't fully bond with them. The lady I work with has completely the opposite personality style than me, and I have yet to figure a way to make that relationship cohesive. I know no one in this country, and everyone I love is an ocean away. In short, it feels a wee bit dark in this dark, wet country. 

However, just like my inky wet room, I know that the darkness will soon show to have more light than I currently perceive. School starts in only a matter of weeks and with it, people my age and stage of life--even if the country stays clouded. I am, then, not worried. I just have to wait it out and try to find ways to make my own sunshine. 

Right now, that means reading (if you must know, I'm reading P.S. I Love You. It was in the house. Don't judge me), spending time with Jesus, watching movies, and occasionally venturing out of my room to explore. All is well.

The Spirit of Newness

Welcome to Belfast City Vineyard church, a lovely place for Jesus worshipers conveniently located a mere .6 miles away from my front door.

I've been plotting attendance at this church since I visited last summer. I don't know what denomination to call it, since it doesn't seem to fit with any I know. It's got worship like JBU, sermon style like First Presbyterian, and the presence of the Holy Spirit like Woodlake Assembly. Except also not.

I have found that in the States, there are many kind of churches, but there seem, to me, to be two distinct groups: those who emphasize the Holy Spirit and those who don't. It's perhaps because I grew up very, very charismatic that I notice the difference so strongly, but it's true.

Either the church is ALL about the power and gifts of the Holy Spirit (healing, tongues, etc) or they attempt, in a holy manner, to pretend as though he doesn't exist. Either way, I've only experienced the trinity extremely out of whack.

This church (judgement based off more than just today) is different. They seem to me to have been mentally blank slated and straight read through the New Testament and decided to live and believe accordingly. The church doesn't push the Spirit, try to convince people of His power, or try to hide it, it's just straightforward about His existence. It's very refreshing.

Additionally, since I do not have independent transportation for the first time since I turned 16, I walk to church. Good Jesus time, I tell ya what.

So, after not attending church for an entire summer, I am now reengaging. It's super awkward, I am unbelievably shy (did not talk to a single person aside from my one chat with "Kathy" during mingle time. Hate mingle time.), and breaking into a new community will be hard by myself, but I've a feeling that such experiences will occur with some frequence in my near future.

Bus(ted) in Belfast

Today's forecast: dark with a chance of dry.

Yes, I've decided to do away with this "chance of rain" in my personal Norn Iron forecastings. Because the thing is, it's going to rain. You know it's going to rain, I know it's going to rain, everyone in this dry-forsaken country knows it's going to rain.

Why then did I leave the manor without even considering an umbrella or rain jacket? Because I am not very bright. ha! Get it? Bright. Like what I expected outside. hahaha. Sorry. That was terrible.

I woke up at the inexcusable hour of 12 pm today, threw on clothes, and left the house with the rest of the group. ONWARD TO ST. GEORGE'S  MARKET!

(Sorry, no pics today. I left my phone at home. Yes, ma, I spent the day in the city without communicative capacity. I wasn't killed. It's okay. No, I won't do it again. Probably.).

The market is indoor and is filled with all sorts of local vendors. Scarves, hats, and other clothing items are at the front. Random other artisans are in the next row forward.  Then comes cupcakes, breads, crepes (I ate a veg crepe. It was delectable), and all other manners of food. Finally, we come to my favorite section. Why is it my favorite? I don't know. I've never bought anything from it, I more just love that it exists. Fish. A huge section of fresh fish. Whole fish, fish fillets, crabs, some more fish, and fresh produce surrounding.

After I left (in the pouring rain, mind you), I ventured into city centre, where I purchased shampoo. It was the only thing on my to-do list for today. Mock all you want, but it got me to leave the house.

Then, I discovered a tucked-away library. Two stories and a basement, complete with mini-museum and twisty staircase. After I signed the Seamus Heaney commemoration book, I ventured upstairs, sat, and looked at the rain until the library closed.

When I got kicked out, I walked several miles down to Queen's, asking lots of people for directions. When there, I went to the botanical gardens, ran into a huge group of French tourists (JBU student: "How did you know they were French?" Me: "They are looking at you with disdain and speaking French."), wandered a bit of the Ulster Museum, and then started my arduous bus experience.

Buses. Buses and I struggle. Well, all transportation and I seem to struggle, but buses and I have a history. Anyway, I probably talked to 10 different people trying to figure out the bus (why are there no street signs or bus maps posted?!).

The last lady I asked said she could tell me which road to take to get to my bus, but she'd much rather give me directions to the closest coffee shop. I looked like I needed something, she said (you mean my drowned street rat look doesn't make me look fabulous?).

I made it home. Only had to walk three quarters of a mile uphill when my bus conveniently didn't stop.
Highlight #1: I will not gain weight at this rate. Highlight #2: There was tea waiting at home. :)

Tonight is bonding with my house "family," in which I have assumed the role as "aunt" under our house mom Elaine. Chore time, kids.

Home.

Feast your eyes on my new home.

I left Tulsa at 5:45 am on Thursday morning, had a 12 hour layover in Newark (followed by all my flight fears being confirmed on the flight to Belfast), and am finally, finally home at Lakeside Manor in Belfast.

Fear not, I have kept up my record of crying in airplanes (I blame Dramamine mixed with altitude...).

I also made several airport friends--a wallstreet man, a canadian, a pastor, two Istanbul-bound sisters, and a very kind lady in a wheelchair.

So now, with my cup of tea (at last, tea that tastes as it should), I am settling into my new room and my new life.

Stories to follow, I'm sure. :)

The Girlfriend Goodbye Post.

In May of Last year, I wrote about goodbyes without promise. 

It is now the time for me to reiterate my thoughts in a more concrete way. Beware, there be sappiness. 

My boyfriend Noah defines sappiness as: "The quality of being, at the same time, both very sad and very happy." 

I leave for Ireland in around 40 hours. I will be gone for a year. This may not seem like a very long time for you all who are adept at change and leaving, but I have never been more than an hour and a half away long-term from my family. 

I also hate change. 

This change, however, I think my soul is ready for. The pain of leaving, though, is unbelievable. I say goodbye without knowing when or how or in what context I will see my closest circle again. 

Sappiness has characterized the past month for me as I've said goodbye to my three best friends, mentors, and family members. We are all off to live and live fully, but we will do so without the direct involvement of one another. 

This past weekend, I brought the boyfriend home. It was an absolute blast. We baked together, sang loudly in my kitchen, went on a walk to one of my favorite places, and spent time with my family. 

There was a lot of laughter. But in the times the room got still, we'd remember why he was there and how the weekend would end. 

I've known for the last year that I would leave my family and my friends this September. I did not anticipate Noah. I don't know how I could have. 

God thinks it's funny to mess with me. I, who loathe and avoid committing to anything more than a few days in advance, have agreed to attempt what looks to me as being impossible. It makes me squirm and shiver and want to escape just thinking about it, but I have given a promise with my goodbye and have entrusted it to God. 

This post, then, serves as a slight amendment to its predecessor. All goodbyes are promiseless. All goodbyes, that is, except for the kind of promise you make to a person you can't imagine your life without. Even then it isn't stone, but it's a bond of faithfulness that, if planted in a foundation of the Lord, just might have a chance.