Find that Funny Bone

There are wrong times for comic relief.
Believe me, I come from a family where we deal with (most) emotions by dealing out humor.

However, never underestimate the power of humor to dissipate anxiety and anger.

In my Family and Human Services classes, we learned about "repair attempts."

It's those things you do that bring uncontrollable situations into the realm of "Okay I can handle discussing this" again.

Sometimes, that's a 5 minute time out. For my professor's wife, all it takes is him touching her on the arm. I'm not sure what mine is, but I know that something that does work for me often is being taken off-guard by something that makes me smile. Sneak attack humor!

There's been a couple situations weighing on me pretty heavy since I got home (which makes some serious sense, considering how much drastic change I've gone through in such a short period of time), and twice yesterday was I brought out of my seriousness and into clarity.

The first was bestowed upon me by my boyfriend, who decided--mid-conversation about the acceptability of having feelings (something I struggle with sometimes) to ask me whether I thought women or men would live longer should one of their limbs be cut off, given that women are so much more conditioned to losing unreal amounts of blood. It was so...random. And I laughed.

Laughter has actual effects on the body.
Listen to just one of its benefits, stolen from the Mayo Clinic's website:
"Laughter enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain."

Later, I was at a party, where I came across two people I never anticipated being at said party. During the course of the evening, I ended up in the same conversation circle, and a mutual friend of myself and one of said non-wanteds was brought up.
This new acquaintance could not have known the context for why bringing up this mutual friend was funny, but it was enough for both me and the ex to have a moment of significant, amused eye-contact. Our first positive interaction in more than half a year. It was good.

My point in bringing up laughter and amusement and conversations/people I don't like is to say that even matters that seem so hard and fast in one direction can be altered with the smallest of actions.

It reminds me of something I read on pinterest once:

Laughter reminds us that we are human. And no matter how full of red hot emotion, are not unable to find a point of connection and relatability.

Vienna Waits For You

 Maybe I expected too much out of Austria.
A girl at the hostel asked me if it had been everything I hoped it would be, and I didn't know how to answer.

What had I hoped?

I had hoped...that it would answer something.
Though, at the same time, I'm not entirely certain what question I was asking.

Was I disappointed with Vienna?
No. I can't say that I was.
Was I blown away by it?
No. Except by way of ice cream. Holy goodness. I very nearly proposed to the proprietor of the second ice cream shop we visited. Only refrained because, on the off chance that he answered, "Actually, yes. I am indeed in the market for a wife", I would seriously have considered going for it. My jokes are only ever partial jokes. I wasn't playing with the fire (or ice) of that one.

My favorite part of Austria (other than the ice cream), was the busride: Praha -->Wien and Wien --> Praha. Lots of quiet time to sit curled in sunshine, watching the quaint houses and countryside and fields on fields of yellow flowers and windmills.

We were a little late on our arrival to Vienna, due to the fact that we missed our first bus by about 45 seconds. Actually, looking back, it was pretty funny. At one point on our journey to the bus station, we ended up in this dusty, deserted construction site. ..What? How?

There was also a more than sketchy situation with an overly amorous British couple on the bus in the seats next to us. Did I mention we were the only 4 people on the bus?

Finally we made it to Vienna. Day 1 there consisted in walking to our hostel. It was a heft 6 mile dander, but gorgeous. Just gorgeous. Would have chosen it for a day's activity. Actually, it was one of my favorite activities we did there.

Through a park, along a river. Mm. Yes.

Bridge graffiti

We finally arrived at our hostel, entitled "Believe it or Not Hostel." And, actually, it lived up to that haughty title. To rooms with wee lofts to accommodate more people. You've gotta stay at least two nights. And it's away from the main hub of the city. So the people who end up there are calmer and, at least the ones I met, intelligent. 

Breakfast in the morning made by owner Lili, laundry, all sorts of random amenities, and a great price. It really does make you feel at home. Loved it. Had the opportunity for some great, constructive conversations with people from all across the globe. 

Did I take pictures? No. I did not. 

 Day two in Vienna, my buddy London joined us. We got coffee from a cafe with no prices (we are convinced that the prices were changed if you were or were not a tourist), visited a bookshop, wandered the city, went to another bookshop, and got POURED ON by rain. There were actually some pretty serious feet side effects from the rain and my chacos. Namely, so much blood. But you don't need to hear about that.

Doesn't that look just like Cinderella's castle back there? 

We also found a market. It consisted of people dressed in traditional austrian gear and wine. 

and this band. There's an old guy you can't see that's in the audience just playing along with a wooden kazoo. Made. My. Day. Ain't no party like a solo-kazoo party. 

The oldest running Viennese church. Fun fact, inside is an entire human skeleton.

It's guarded by this dude. 

With this sweet stained glass inside. 

One day, I hope to be posh enough to get away with pushing a pram full of small dogs and totally own it. 

 So day 2 in Vienna our poor feet needed a break, so we made it a day of sunning and snacks.
Appfel streudel, some weird ball of dough with honey and cinnamon, and the best ice cream of my existence. Match that with snuggling in the grass of various public arenas and getting made fun of by German youths. No shame. We don't get sunshine in Belfast.

I can't even go into detail about that ice cream. Just know that it was delicious.
That night and the next, we got delicious, inexpensive sushi. Nothing like raw fish, I tell ya.

The buns of human rights. Erected for a good cause. Currently, it was good enough cause for me to laugh uncontrollably. 

The next day was a little odd. I shall explain.

Started out normally, we went to an outdoor market, passed by a Russian memorial (of course) then over to the Belvedere (please tell me I'm spelling that right), then to the botanical gardens (where there was another garden market)...

I have multiple shots of this man. I just feel the need to admit that. 

In my defense, I refrained from shooting the people next to this guy. Started feeling a little creepy . 

The Austrians know their way around a garden. 

I don't  know what these are, but I want them. 

 ...THEN it felt like somebody shoved a knife into my eye, had to take my contact out, and was sent into spiraling blindness. My whole face swelled up, I couldn't open or shut my eye without pain, and it was spouting water. Truly pathetic. Please make fun of me.
Don't worry. Gets worse.
Sonya then had to lead me like a blind person all 4 miles back to our hostel. After lying for a few hours with no change (except maybe my face swelling up even more), I took some allergy pills and a pain killer. On an empty stomach, which resulted in nausea, which resulted in taking a motion sickness pill, which resulted in total delirium, which resulted in me collapsing on the community couch and talking at/to/with an australian guy I'd never met before (and never saw/saw again) for God knows how many hours while Sonya went back into the city to explore it at night. I have little to no memory of the entire night. But I hear from the British runner and the Croatian cross-fit instructor that I was hilarious.

So there was that.

Actually, funny memory, that was not my first "blind" experience. One year at JBU, my freshman year, my buddy Steve and I did it on purpose. On our way over to the annual Siloam Dogwood Festival in our friend Layden's car, we found a pair of blind people sunglasses. You know, the kind that visor you in from all sides.

Instantly a plan was formed.

I put on the glasses and took Steve's arm as he led me around the festival--a solid two or so hours--calling out (LOUDLY) walking instructions. One of my favorite memories. Absolutely so hilarious.

Sonya and I waved goodbye to Vienna early the next morning. Didn't even have a chance to meet/apologize to my Australian.

One last shot of Vienna as we headed to the subway. Or Metro. or Underground. Or whatever you do so wish to call it. 

I think on my next trip to Austria, I'd want to hit up Salzburg and mix it up with a couple days in Munich, Germany (cue Pink Panther references). It was good, very lovely. I'm very glad we did it, and I loved meeting the people from our hostel.

Who knows what I was looking for. Who knows what I found, really.
Vienna is Vienna, for all that she is and for all that she is not.

Games

Abbi and Shelby leave us two days from now, so our little friend group (minus lauren) went out for a girls' night on the town! (and finally snapped a picture with Kiera!)

Stop one was Benedict's for dinner. They have a super cool deal there where meal prices change depending on the time you get there. So if you order at 5:45, your meal is 5.45. It makes dinner like a game. Also, it's delicious.

From there, we went on to Cuckoo's pub. It was loud with this terrible alt music, but that added to its charm. We played make it or break it, would you rather, and gave each other dares like ten year olds.

My two dares were to get up and dance by myself for a full minute (this was not an empty pub) and to tell the bar tender that I fancied his ponytail. The second led to a nice wee talk with him about hair care and just how hard it is to make a good messy bun these days. He seemed genuinely pleased that someone appreciated his hair artistry. ha!

We rounded out our evening of games with speed charades. There's this app that is a combination of catchphrase and charades, and you put your phone on your forehead, it flashes a word, and your friends act it out while you guess. The cultural struggle was real. Pop culture (any culture) references went way past our heads or their heads without much overlap in knowledge. It was hilarious.

We chose hot drinks instead of cold and I was reminded of a game night with my family playing Things. The category was "things that make me feel stupid." Chon wrote "Ordering at coldstone." Coldstone Creamery is a posh ice cream shop in Tulsa whose sizes are "Like it," "Love it," and "Gotta have it."

My drink was called, "Apple pie or die." He couldn't understand my accent, so I had to say it twice, and I felt so stupid. It did not taste like apple pie, but it was warm. :) In Ireland, many times that's all you really wish to for.

Comic Relief

It's been a pretty emotionally heavy week in my wee blogosphere here. Sorry for that. Actually, not. You choose to read. :)

Anywho, it's been requested that I give some more details as to my classes:

At my high school during one of their Senior Farewells, there was this skit in which each of the 7 or so students pretended to be one of our teachers, merely saying one of their taglines. It was funnier when they did it. Either way, my three professors in tagline and behavioral traits form:

Sinead (pronounced "Snid"): listens while slouched way down in her chair then respond with eyebrows up and a slow, deep head bob while saying, "Riiiiiiight, riiiiight, yeah."

Stefanie (pronounced "Schtefanie"): leans way forward when she listens with her neck outstretched, totally tense and says, "Tow-tahlly, tow-tahlly. yah."

Eamonn (pronounced "E-mn"): strokes his beard or runs his fingers through his hair constantly and starts with a sort of chuckle-harumph before he responds with, "Yes...yes..right. well. not quite."

My first class (the one in which I am the only student) is with Eamonn. I've no idea what to call him. Doctor Hughes? Professor? Tutor? Eamonn? I go with nothing. I just greet him.

Class progresses in the exact same way every week:
"Have you got any questions?"
    "About the class or about the reading?"
"Either."
    *Jamie squirms trying to figure out what she's supposed to say, knowing that she doesn't even know where to begin with a question on either the text or the class and knowing that he's not looking for a question. He's looking for a position. Therefore, she starts spouting off random things she's noticed in the text.
*Chuckle harumph*"Yes...yes...right. well. not quite" then goes on to talk about everything in creation except for the actual reading. Jamie hasn't the faintest idea how anything that's happening relates, and she zones out for long periods of time. "Yes, well getting to the point of how it relates to the text..." and connects it in ways that are totally above Jamie's head. "Have you got any questions?"
    *Jamie slowly nods her head as if in understanding and says, "Not quite. I'm still just processing through."
Class ends. Every week.

Today, though, I brought in coffee and my new stress ball. [Digression: my stress ball. It's a wee globe of a nice weight and size that reminds me of one of my favorite books. Better yet. It's also a snowglobe, a bouncy ball, and a light-up ball. What. Yes.] I played with it all through class (which actually helped me focus better), but I dropped it near the end and it went bezerk with the light show, to which Eamonn exclaimed: "Blimey!!!"

hahahahaha. Blimey. That's a thing here.

My second class is a gaggle of discussion and energy and it goes by pretty quickly, I'd say.

To be clear, I really enjoy the reading for both of these classes. I just usually am at a loss as to the content of the discussion. Did I google for "Irish history for dummies" today? Yes. Yes I did.

Ways that my classmates and I try to appear as if we know class information:
-"To that point...oh I've just lost it!" (flips through book as if to rediscover answer)
-Repeating in different words exactly what the person before you said
-Saying, when called upon, that you are processing.
-Talking well about something entirely unrelated and mentioning that it reminds you of the text.
-Bringing up a point from a previous class you had with that same professor and getting them off-topic
-The deep nod
-Making a question of the last statement made and making it sound as though  you've just made a profound statement. agh. Too many "made"s.
-Looking deeply into your text and writing lots and lots of notes or typing lots of nonsense. Too busy transcribing brilliance to answer questions or participate in discussion.

At 17:30 each day, the classroom is filled with the sweet scent of chinese food. Every week. I finally discovered that we abuck (yah I said it. abuck) ChinaChina foodery. Talk about distracting and far more interesting at dinnertime than Victorian Irish literature.

Am I enjoying my education? Yes. I love the readings; I love the pieces I understand, and I actually enjoy getting into lightly heated discussions over the text with my classmates.

That wasn't a very exhaustive post. Sorry, ma. But it gives a nice little image for ya.

Monster Mash

Tonight, a very drunk Kenyan man asked me to bear his children. So...there's that.

Happy Halloween, everybody!

Halloween has long been a favorite holiday. When I was little bitty, my daddy and I would go trick-or-treating together. We tried all different modes of transportation. Some years we drove, some years we walked, and I know there was at least one year in there we went via 4wheeler. It was just straight fun.

Then, when I got home, I would sit in front of the fire place and neurotically sort all of the candy. I don't actually remember sharing, but I'm sure a few Almond Joys went missing when my back was turned. :)

All time favorite costume, though, has to have been in college. Junemore year  I went as a wallflower. Had it planned for months (Side note: One day, for some occasion, I and my significant other at the time will go as a Heroic Couplet. Dress up as superheroes and speak only in couplets. Booyah). Since I'm not big on social gatherings, it gave me a brilliant excuse to be excruciatingly awkward the entire night and it be totally acceptable. I went to far as to lie down and hide in a corner on stage while they were doing some sort of awards. One of which I won and they had to find me. It was truly great.

Tonight, Halloween was spent at Robinson's Pub skaraoke-ing. Yes, folks. That's scary karaoke. Since we've a curfew of 11 (or at least the students do), we got there at 9 when it opened and literally were the party. Others joined later.

I went as cookie monster. Thanks, Forever Lazy!

I know. I've never looked more appealing in my life. It's practically the only outfit I will agree to wear if and when I go manhunting. You know?

(--> Two pirates and two onesides walk into a bar. That's it. That's the punchline. Oh, and the part where literally no one else in the bar is in costume...)

Did I karaoke? Pft. Did I karaoke...OF COURSE.

You see, small groups of people I know, no way. No way no way no way will I embarrass myself. But goodness, you put me in front of a large group of people with maybe one person for support and I will blow your mind with shamelessness.

This evening, that meant very loud, very terrible singing to Ke$ha's Tik Tok while interpretive dancing...in a blue onesie with the hood up...sober. They also announced my name as Jimmy, which the guys at the back mockingly catcalled. People here. No one can say my name.

As if that wasn't good enough, then we got back on the bus where I was soon joined by my Kenyan friend who plopped himself down partially on top of me. 20 minute bus ride, my friends, trying to interpret his strong Kenyan/drunk accent and respond accordingly.

His life goals include lots of children and living out happy days with his family. He thinks his mother would like me, but I better get a move on the children train because she already had four by the time she was twenty-two. He just got out of a long-term relationship, so no strings there. "You German?" Nope! "You look like Russia." Uh...ok! I don't really even know what that means.

(My face at the mention of childbirth: a mix of horror and confusion.)

Oh there's more, but I'll spare you. I may have just missed my one and only opportunity to have mocha babies, though.

Tonight's group:

Bad News Bubbles

Sometimes, in life, starting dishwashers can be hard.

Year to date, I have not experienced this struggle personally, but for others, the same cannot be said. 

This evening, here at LakesideManor, we had..bubbles. 

I was sitting in my bed, writing a presentation, when one of the little cooks knocked on my door and motioned for me to follow her. 

The dishwasher was everywhere. Bubbles and water, everywhere. 

Apparently, one of our sweet students had misunderstood the directions and instead of tossing in a single pre-packaged tablet, she filled the dishwasher container full of kitchen dish soap. 

What's funny is that Abbi and I had just last evening seen a commercial for this particular brand: a single drop to clean a sinkful of dishes. 

Try 1/4 of a cup. 

We scooped, we rinsed, we played volleyball with, and we sponged the bubbles, but lo, they come. 

The battle continues. 

Mistaken Identity

The big ole house in which I live used to be a residential home for the elderly (which, to be honest, does not make sense to me considering the unfriendly-to-the-disabled layout). Either way, JBU has only been using the house for a few years.

That means, we often get calls and visits from people who are still under the impression that we've got a load of hip-breakers in here.

Context for story: I have never met Professor Hadden's wife. Prof. Hadden is in his seventies.

The doorbell rings. I go to answer it. At the door is a lovely little old woman. I open the door, greet her, and ask, "What can I do for you today?"

She pushes past me into the house and just starts meandering toward the living room.

"Uhm...is there someone that you're looking to speak with?"
"Are you one of the students?"
"No, I work here."
"Ah. Very well."

Awkwardness continues, as I think she's looking to move in or else try to find a relative. Nope, nope. Hadden's lovely, non-introductory wife.

The Day Blank in the Planner

Starting early my Junemore year of college, I observe the Sabbath.

It may have begun a little earlier than this, but I really committed to it through a project at JBU's Honor Program. Once a month, they would have Sabbath Sundays, based on the ideas in a book of Dan Allender. 

Allender's goal in his book on Sabbath is to dispel the notion that Sabbath has to be this boring, staunch holier than thou experience. Rather, he explains to Christians that Sabbath is meant to be a time of rejoicing and in celebrating God. It's a mandated time for joy. In theory, that sounds awesome. In practice, not always awesome. 

My two favorite events of the program were the week that several professors brought their children (I'm a little baby crazy and was missing my nieces and nephew terribly) and the event I helped run: finger painting. Actually, that second one is a really funny story involving rain, a wet and brakeless bike, consequent wet jeans, a tornado, and a subsequent date. 

Anyway, I read Allender's book and did some thinking. My personality is very task oriented. I can get a little controlling and workaholic. Okay so maybe a lot of those things. I decided to do it as a spiritual discipline on a one-month trial basis. 

I spent one of the days dead asleep, another lying outside in the grass, another reading a book for fun, and yet another in Tulsa, seeing my niece and nephew. After that month, I was hooked. Only missed one Sabbath in all this time. 

That doesn't mean I get excited for it. Often--especially during finals--I dread it. I dreaded it all this week, actually. 24 hours I can't do homework?! I have important things to get done. I have places to go, people to se, drawers to organise (actually, confession. I once did that for one of my sabbaths. I love it. I know it's weird). 

The thing is, no matter how much homework I had, how many meetings I had to schedule around it, how overwhelmed I was, I have never once missed a deadline or had to fudge a paper because of Sabbath. Not even one time. Every week, it all got done in the end. And, every week, my mind was clearer and calmer than if I had spent the whole day getting things done.  

My thoughts on the subject currently are because this is a Sabbath I didn't want to come. Actually, I remembered it right in the middle of a phone conversation and was filled to the brim with dread. I'd plotted out exactly how much time I would need to accomplish my work by Monday and am now 24hours  short of that initial projection. 

But I slept and I showered, answered some friend emails I'd been unable to, am going to lunch with a friend, am blogging, and a whole lot of time thanking God for making rest in him a rule. Even my "rebellious spirit" (which, I will tell you I've heard my mother pray against for my entire life) finds it hard to build a solid case against that. "No, I will not rejoice in your beauty, creation, and joy! Bah humbug!" doesn't sound all that convincing out loud. 

So, if you'll excuse me, I have a letter to write. 

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.