Promise

I have to take six exams and write a paper, so I'm not doing this now, but I must write some sort of epic poem about my journey from Berlin to Dublin at the mercy of the volcanic ash cloud.

Recommence anxiety attack.

If You Are Sane, DNR (Do Not Read)

Once I've bought the Redbull and consigned myself to a night of work (and perhaps the next morning, too), all motivation for my task goes out the window. Perhaps said motivation is given wings, as the Redbull commercial advertises?

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I remember this time a couple of terms ago, I wrote my 45 page conference paper in two nights (without any prescribed assistance, I might add). Now I find myself dreading the commencement of a simple seven page exercise in regurgitation.

Seven pages! I balk! Child's play, I say.

Hopefully, once these dreadful assignments are behind me, I shall be able to ruminate here on topics other than my procrastination and the loathing that it spawns. For now, however, my mother will just have to get a real time update on how her tuition money is being squandered.

My overall feeling of the day is that I hate the internet. As my main outlet for procrastinating, I have delved further into you, ye devil of technology, than I had ever wished to. You have stunted the sense of humour of our youth. No, I do not LOL, nor do I ROFL. Rather, I WFH (weep for humanity).

With the utmost hypocrisy, I challenge you to RAFB (read a fucking book).

That's enough for now.

P.S. An Irishman referred to "nite" as the "American spelling". Way to go, USA. We suck.

Dublin Bucket List

I have yet to accomplish many of the things that have been on my Dublin To-See List since the very beginning. So, I preface this list with this: Yes, it is embarrassing that I have been here for so long and have yet to do these things, but I was caught up with other things like school... and drinking. Up until a short time ago, my time here seemed infinite - May was miles away. Well, now it's April. Bucket List Time.

1. Phoenix Park
2. Hugh Lane Gallery
3. Bray
4. Howth


This will obviously be added to in the coming days - Just had an itch to get this thing down on internet-paper.

To Berlin on Tuesday to see the fabulous Amanda Faraone. She is a blessed creature with whom I look forward to consuming viele Bieren.  Hopefully she'll be kind about my Deutsch.  And, come to think of it, my English.

Oh, I should probably work now. (Anybody up for some online Boggle?)

Update: Restaurants

Gruel

Queen of Tarts

That Burrito Joint That's Supposed to be "Legit" on Baggot St. 

Update From Your Resident Demons

Dudes, I'm pretty sure that President Obama watches The West Wing, and is just trying to be Jed Bartlet. I mean, that'd be my strategy.
And You Thought Health Care Was a Doozy?

In other news, an avalanche of new music has invaded my otherwise perfectly diligent work ethic. Ha.

I received a postcard from a friend in Wisconsin yesterday, containing updates on her life and happy wishes for spring. Also included was a little update on what the news had been obsessing about lately in the States (Health Care). I found it really adorable that she would think to include an update about the news in the States, like I can't or don't check it everyday over here.

But then I realize that I really don't get that kind of exposure, the saturation of the media in your surroundings and the obsessive nature of the coverage. I.E. watching local news, reading local papers, etc. I can't say I necessarily miss the media-party (I could really give a patoot about Tiger Woods, as a golfer or as a sex addict), but it was a nice reminder that I perhaps check my local news site a bit more often.

Useless Realization

I really never should have taken a Senior Sophister seminar. Although fascinating, nobody in the department thought to tell the visiting student that the mandatory exams test nothing specific, but rather a general ability to discourse on philosophical topics. Which you should have after you have spent the past four years doing nothing but studying philosophy, and the past five months writing a 100 plus page philosophical thesis.

I think I might just have to be okay with failing this particular class. Or at least with doing very poorly. So, I'll cry about this tonight, and move on. Nothing to be done. Maybe this means that instead of stressing out for the next six weeks, I'll actually be able to enjoy my remaining time here.

Sorry, Mom, I don't think your daughter is going to be a philosopher. Professional worrier, maybe? Professional setting-the-bar-too-high-so-I-always-fail-Person?

I need to be done with a school for a while. Say, about three months. Ah, how convenient - Door County, embrace me, please.

Dublin Still Surprises

On a cab ride from Kilmainham to Ranelagh, I looked out the window to see two small boys riding ponies bareback through the streets. I turned to the person next to me for an explanation, but apparently its an, if not common, unsurprising sight in Dublin.

This city blends rural and urban life in a way that I've never seen in an American city. I don't know if its because there is such a large separation between the rural and urban cultures in America, or something else, but it is worth mentioning that almost everyone I meet has a family member who owns a farm.

Young working class children will buy the ponies and ride them bareback around their neighborhood and the outskirts of the city. Apparently,  the Smithfield Market is one of the oldest traditions in Dublin, where working class youths go to trade horses and ponies for cheap. For 300 years, and still today, you can go to Smithfield on the first Sunday of every month, buy a horse, get the horse shoes fitted by a blacksmith, and ride away with no questions asked. In a capital city of Western Europe.

Nothing very deep or blog-worthy to say, just an image to remember. I like getting to know "old Dublin", pre-tiger and all that noise. Just reminds me that the US is just a teenager, compared to wizened Europe. Wizened, not wise. Just sayin'.

Wish I could find a picture to post, but they are all protected online. Might have to go myself with my camera...

Anyway - off to find truth (or more likely a lot of crap I will make up to reach a word count).

This is what I think about when I ride the bus.

On the bus today, a mustachioed woman sat next to me and, very craftily, somehow wound her way from discussing the moral-deficiency of bus drivers to her own suffering under the employment of a nun. She bristled (ha!) at the thought of a sinful nun demanding clerical work of her. However, all was well in the end because the priest of the order told the bearded lady that the nun in question had committed mortal sin. Thus, the fuzzy female was confident that her nemesis will meet her justice in the the end.

Meanwhile, on another planet, I decided I don't like coleslaw on sandwiches. Older women on buses require very little encouragement, so I had sometime for my own thoughts.

I hope I never grow a beard. I'm currently writing an essay on Ronald Dworkin's theory of rights, in which rights are trumps to the concept of liberty (blargh, blah, bullshit). Parallel thought: beards are trumps to women's beauty, unless you like that sort of thing.

I remember when I was small my friend Chris would always ask his mom if she would still love him if he were a worm. Mom, would you still love me if I had a beard? Be honest.

HALT. Fleet Foxes just came on in Starbucks. That'll do, pig.