My Jet Lag a Leettle

Confession: I may or may not go to sleep at 8:30ish back home. Sometimes later. But 8:30 is preferable.

So, when I went to bed at 2:30am here, my body thought it was very normal.

I felt an alarm wasn't necessary to get em up and at em for my 11:30am coffee with some mates.
However, when Matt woke me up at 1pm to make sure I was still going to the movie, I was obviously proved wrong. Yikes. Won't be doing that again.

Made it only a half hour late to our film at the Queen's Film Theatre (second to last item on my Belfast Bucket List).

"Good Vibrations" only cost us 13p each, which was awesome, and the film was so so good.
A punk rock "godfather" from Belfast during the Troubles era. AND the screenplay was written by one of my favorite NI authors, Glenn Patterson, who wrote Number 5. Love him,

Then Boojum and books with Matt (and a tour of the library) then a very long, very wet wait for the bus (the visit wouldn't be the same without it).

Belfast: Where Umbrellas go to die

Lauren greeted me at Lakeside and whisked me away to pick up Kiera and have a girls' night.
The Christmas market for yummy dutch pancakes and nutella then off we went to dinner.
Then, to finish up my BBL, we went and saw the Big Fish (also the title of one of my favorite movies, I will add).

The frozen rain tried to immobilize us, and we may have gotten a wee bit lost on the way, but we found it! And danced and laughed and howled into the night before heading home and chatting till midnight.

a glowing "doll on the ball", the much mocked symbol of peace, placed between the two once very divided parts of the city

the beffers

umbrella: conquered 

We've also decided to make a covenant to see each other once at least once a decade.

Another good, long, wet day had. :) I love loving here.

PSL

It's that season again, when all the white girls in The States don their nike shorts, ugg boots, and head on over to Starbucks to take selfies with their pumpkin spice lattes.

It is one of my dearest pleasures to inwardly (and now bloggily) mock those humans.
At the same time, I admit that there are few things that are more delightful than a good pumpkin spice latte. Or really anything pumpkin flavoured.

Aldi carries so many strange and wonderful pumpkin products during the halloween season including, but not excluded to, pumpkin cream cheese, pumpkin yogurt, and pumpkin pancake mix.

And, I'm not sure if you're quite aware, but Northern Ireland is not known for its pumpkin-flavoured anything.

Not even their Starbucks carried the PSL.
Finally, after days and days of searching, I found one in Sinnamon on Stranmillis. (If you're ever in the UK in the fall and get desperate. I understand. We all have needs.

To me, at that time, I needed pumpkin because it tasted like home: jumping in crisp, fire-coloured leaves, the smell of the ozark mountains changing seasons, and carving pumpkins with my friends. All things I had been stripped of. All things I now have again.

Currently, I'm sitting in Starbucks in Rogers, 45 minutes away from my Siloam, finishing up some office work and drinking a PSL in the rainy weather.

Why?
Partly because I needed to do office work.
Partly because if I chose Rogers instead of Fayetteville, I can see the boyfriend after he gets off work.
Partly in celebration.

Today, I submitted the single most strenuous and single most important paper of my academic career. That's right; the Master's thesis has been officially turned-in. Now, all that's left to do is wait and hope my little American, literary voice is understood.

Reading in the Rain, Through the Fog

There are all sorts of rains here in NI.

There's the kind that falls even when the sun is shining like the liquid version of sifted powdered sugar: light and sweet. 

Then there's "wet rain" (previously discussed, I think) in which you can't really hide from it no matter how big your umbrella is. It just kind of saturates the air; the tiniest water buds falling in such slow motion as to seem as though they're not moving at all. 

Then there's the kind that actually smells of rain and comes down straight and hard like at home. I've only experienced it once here. 

And then, of course, there's what's been coming down nonstop I hear for the past two months to today. Sideways, holding onto the sides of the wind, coming in just as hard and from what seems like every direction but up. 

Tireless stuff. From inside, it's hard to tell if you're hearing the wind or the rain, the sounds have become so congruous. Either sound is nice, though. 

Inside is me, snuggled into a pile of pillows, with my journal and laptop, an oscillating heater and an oscillating reading list: Oswald Chambers (I'm behind), The Elements of Philosophy (an old textbook I'm reading for fun), Dubliners (James Joyce. Again, for fun), Connecting (A reread by Larry Crabb). 

Cozy, cozy. 

2.5 hours until my first class of the semester starts. 

Many would question the sanity of such thick reading before I get smacked with my semester heap's. 

It makes sense to me, though (which I guess is all that matters). 

You see, I really do love to read. That isn't a surprise to anyone, but what may be is that in the 42 days I was home, I only read one book. One. It was one I'd already read and YA at that. 

I started 9. 

Never seemed able to make it past the first page of any. My mind wouldn't do what I wanted. Didn't do any content developing either. 

My mind, which I've always felt able to bend to my academic will, sat down and fell into an unwakeable sleep. 

A bit before I left, I started writing copious letters to send out to my students of last semester, people I attended the OneThing conference with, and a few other JBUers I appreciated. 

I planned those letters a month before I actually wrote them. It took me that long to make myself do it. 

Those two ideas are connected. I started to judge myself and get frustrated, knowing the degree to which I am capable of accomplishing such feats as note writing and book reading. 

The thing was, though, I was also coping with an extended period of depression. My mind literally wasn't functioning as I had become accustomed to. 

I had to change my outlook on myself, start lowering my expectations and raise my commitment, as Pastor Tom Harrison would say. 

Grace, with myself.

One day, I may read three pages. But that was more than the day before!!! So I celebrate. Or I wrote five notes in a row! So great! Well done! That was more than the zero of yesterday! 

As I explained this process to someone, they asked me the very valid question: "How do you avoid becoming complacent or underachieving?" 

My answer was "Thankfulness." I see where I want to be. I'm not "content," necessarily, with where I am, but I recognize that I am, in fact, here. Therefore, I have to celebrate every step that I take toward becoming who I want to be. 

If I don't achieve as highly today as I did yesterday, very well. I am thankful for what I did happen to accomplish today (comparison is the thief of joy. Let yesterday's victories be yesterday) and hope for at least as wonderful, if not more so, tomorrow, with the knowledge that if I "fail" tomorrow, I am not a failure and it is not a signal for perpetual failure in the days to come. 

My current reading is varied so as to allow me to trick myself. I can only get through 10 pages of Dubliners? Awesome. I can do that and maybe half a chapter of Crabb and one wee article of philosophy. 

By the end, I've accomplished much more than I would have out of just one subject and my mind has gained a little more grid in its goo. 

I needed to practice before put back in the big leagues of grad school, and what better weather to practice in than the glowey green raininess of Ireland? 

A Week in Her Shoes

And if the world were black or white entirely

 And all the charts were plain

Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,

A prism of delight and pain, 

We might be surer where we wished to go

Or again we might be merely

Bored but in brute reality there is no

Road that is right entirely 

- excerpt from Louis MacNeice: "Entirely"

It was a week of pro-con listing and prayer.

Therefore, it was a week of fasting and walks. Since my sincerity is not to be trusted in food fasts, I redirected it to the next obvious thing: liquid. Anything that wasn't water was off-limits. I have never wanted tea so badly. However, when I felt myself craving it, I took it as an opportunity for prayer and focus.

In addition, I took a daily walk. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others.

Monday, I decided to take a morning run. Those who know me know that running is not nearly my forte. I look like some sort of wounded animal. It ain't pretty and I give up fast. It's my go-to for burning off excess emotion, though. My wee run ended in walking the perimeter of my home.

Tuesday, I walked at night down to the food co-op about a half mile away to top up my bus pass. I left the house at 17:30, which mean my descent down the hill matched the descent of the sun, and my walk home was dark. Cold air, music, and seeing my neighborhood by night. It may be my favorite walk of the week.

Seen at Co-Op: He's with Royal Mail.

 Isn't his wee truck just the cutest little thing? I love it I love it.

Wednesday: I finished up my first class' homework early, so after lunch, I headed into town for a few errands and then a dander down to Queen's Library to retrieve my books for class 2. Just before I started down to University, the heaven's opened up (from the side) and spurted water on us like a slit jugular, in pulses. Luckily, my "errands" were to pick up an umbrella and some wellies, so I changed into them, slipped my cloth shoes into my backpack, and headed out. 

The McClay Library in "Fall"

yes, two views of the same thing. The first because it's clear and the second because I like the reflection of the light on the wet stone. It's my favorite walk in Belfast, from the library to the bus stop. Especially when it's wet, the whole street glows and the church at the end of it is lit at odd angles, giving it an ominous look, but ominous in a good way. I don't know the right word. 

Thursday was Halloween! My walk was more of a swagger in my sweet onesie and, of course, my smooth dance moves (not smooth. not cool even kind of. don't let me fool you). The Europa Hotel was right across the street from Robinson's Pub, where I was. 

Fun fact: The Europa was the most bombed location in all of Belfast during The Troubles. It's also a thing here to fasten yourself to the top and rope shimmy down the hotel. Man, I butchered that. There is probably a real name for what I just described. Either way...

Friday's walk was in Dublin. I went with the group of students down to the south. Dublin is built up around the River Liffey. Our walk mostly involved walking from Grafton (tourist shoppy area) down to Kildare Street (political and artistic area).  

This is across the street from the Leinster House (like the capitol building. hub of political life). This house in particular has absolutely no historical value that I know of, it just happened to have a lovely door next to a really cool lamp post. 

It was also on this day that Hadden (wise and old. all you need to know) told me something I thought was some very good fodder for thought: "If you are true in your intentions and ambitions to follow God, no matter where he's leading you, then he may not show you the one right door--in fact he probably won't, love--but he will make absolute sure you don't open the wrong one." 

Good words and good perspective. 

Saturday: Turning point: figurative and also pun. 

Wet streets, if I haven't mentioned before, are one of the most soothing things, especially wet streets that have stop lights glowing on them. There's a place in Tulsa that is especially beautiful in the rain. It's a couple stoplights in a row with an overpass separating them. The whole street glows, but you can only see it from certain angles. Mmm. 

I went out at 17:30, but it had been dark for an hour already. I walked from the house down the hill to the stoplight above. No earbuds, no people. Before I left, I was trying to finish up some homework and found myself praying instead. I don't know. I just felt different in my head and in my heart before leaving for this one.

And it was a different walk and I came home from it with an entirely different perspective, one which didn't make me cheerful exactly but one which finally gave me peace, like that's what my pro-con list had been lacking all along. 

For the first time all week in my debacle-ing, I saw my own part in the problem. Praise God for that. 

Sunday: I anticipated the ability to tell you that today brought total resolution and clarity, but it hasn't. Some things can't be fixed that fast. That doesn't mean they can't be fixed or that it's not right to fix them, but change is hard and slow and forces you to own up to yourself and confront your insecurities and shortcomings and that's just never fun. 

The "autumnal" walk to and home from church. Joined by Abbi and Shelby and mostly spent in silence. Silence which I usually fill up with mindless chatter because that's just what I do in my own socially anxious way, but I didn't today. I just let it be quiet and okay. The sky was perfectly cloudless, the wind was a little whippity, but overall, it was a nice cleansing walk. 

My final walk of the week was 12 hours later and to the mailbox just a bit down the road. Why tonight and not tomorrow? Because tomorrow I might have answers. And tonight I just have faith. 

Comes in Waves

According to Professor Eamonn, there was some sort of minor hurricane off the coast of England this past week. He told me about the weather when he caught my horrified face looking out the window watching us get slammed with rain and listening to the wind screech like a pissy ex girlfriend.

NI is getting the backlash of it all. I would have known this if I had checked the weather.

The thing is, I don't check the weather anymore. In Oklahoma and Arkansas, I always check the weather. It's one of my favorite parts of every day. It's wildly different from one week or hour to another and I can't wait to see if the projected forecast lines up with reality. It's nerdy and weird, I know. But when I move back and you want to know the highs and lows and percent chance of rain for any given day, I'm your girl.

Here, though, it's different. Mornings are very bright usually and pretty lovely to walk about in. Then, around 2 or so, it clouds up, and by 5:30 it's dark. Expect rain and cloud cover throughout.

Because I don't check the weather, I wouldn't know that English waves were to be splashing our streets and skies with that level of force.

Life in the house and life for me has gotten into patterns. Monday mornings are family meetings followed by hours of class and, if we can snag a ride, Bible study. All the rest of the week, I read. Every hour that I'm not out with the students for a meal or something, I am doing my prep work for class. Fridays sometimes, I go on the day trips with the students, but mostly, I read.

Not complaining. I like to read. Always have. I mention it to say that I am settled into routine. Even the insanity of house relationships has calmed. There's no reason to check the weather. The incoming waves take me by surprise.

What a Soaking Web We Weave

It started out as a beautiful morning here in Belfast City. So beautiful, in fact, that when the three staffers set out for church, they were donned in dresses and left their coats at home.

The walk to church is a lovely downhill .6 miles. 

When we got to church, however, the gate was locked and there was a car with two men out front. We'd already had a very confusing time change struggle that morning, so we thought it was a possibility we'd completely missed church. 

Nope! Apparently, church was relocated due to electrical work on the school it's held in. They told us to hop in. Not knowing what to do, we stared at one another thinking, "Who are these men? Are we going to be taken? Where exactly is church?" 

Sensing our trepidation, one of the men turned a large sign toward us, informing us of the venue change. So, we hopped in and they took us the distance they claimed was a 10 minute walk. It was NOT a ten minute walk. 

During church, it began to rain. 

We decided against waiting it out because of yesterday's downpour. 

And that, is when we began our journey. 4 miles, uphill, in the rain, with broken umbrellas. 

It could have been disasterous, but we spent most of it laughing at how absolutely ridiculous it all was. That, and I started narrarating (in a strong German accent) our walk as though we were filming a  survival documentary. 

A mere hundred or so yards away from our home, we got stopped and laughed at by some locals for our attire and general state of bedraggle. 

We made it home an hour after our start time, drenched but happy and very ready for tea. 

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. 

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*

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.