Ireland

The plane ride there was miserable. Someone seriously should have warned me that the “food” they serve on airplanes is actually converted toxic waste. I seriously had not been so sick in years. It is quite a depressing thought to realize that you may very well die on your way to the UK.
But I did survive… and arrived in one piece to Ireland.
Ireland!!!!!!!!
Ireland was lovely. One of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. While I was there I could not stop smiling… (Which is deal for me… I’m not an unhappy person, but I’d never describe myself as perky. )
But Ireland, there was an energy there… I can see why everyone still connects fairies to Ireland. It was very magic feeling.
Ok, one thing about Ireland is that everything is green. Everything.

Yes, even the trucks at the airport.
Everything is mostly green because of the mold that is growing. Everything is slightly damp and slightly moldy.
While we were in Ireland everyone had ringlets in their hair. Curls were just a product of the wet air. We all looked like we had just gotten a perm… which in fact, only I had. So a combination of a perm and the humidity of Ireland I had curly hair for the first time in my life.


Our first day in Ireland we were shuffled off the airplane and into a tour bus. We were so tired. I didn’t want to sleep because I couldn’t stand the idea of missing any of the amazing, wonderful, majestic and GREEEN country side. Still, he had just been flying the entire day and night before. So none of us were rested. We were exhausted.

Our driver was named Bart. He had a masters in Psychology and a great deal of knowledge on archeology. He was so smart; he taught us all about Ireland, both historical and present. I was in awe at how knowledgeable he was about pretty much everything. Jenni was the only one of us brave enough to ask for a pic.

Our first day was our trip to the Cliffs of Moher. They were like the Cliffs of Insanity from The Princess Bride.

They were so beautiful… and SO windy… well that’s another thing about Ireland, lots of wind. But the wind was so strong here that it was so strong that it was hard to hear one another speak. It was also chilly, but worth it. Look at it. We had lots of fun just goofing off and enjoying the view.
After the cliffs of Moher we got back onto the bus and enjoyed a nice long ride to the hostel. Bart, our driver, made it almost impossible not to fall asleep by playing Enya for us.

One of the things I just loved about Ireland was the colors. I love color. You know how some families are very musically gifted and everyone can sing and play something? Well, my family isn’t like that. But we are a color and visual family. My dad works in color and my mom is also an artist. We might not be able to harmonize, but we can work with color. The Irish had such interesting color sense. I don’t mean that in an Ironic sense. I loved the colors they matched and what they did. Pink and yellow houses, pink, red and fuchsia doors. It was fascinating to see these new colors that we Americans don’t ever see together.

That night we stayed at a hostel. I had actually never heard of a hostel before. So for those of you who don’t know they are like hotels in the sense that they are a place you can pay to stay for the night. However the rooms aren’t private, I think we had about eight girls to a room. They also have a kitchen. The only food in the kitchen is what you provide for yourself, you are able to prepare whatever you buy in the kitchen, just don’t touch the other’s guest’s food. Part of the chores on the brit. lit. Tour was food shopping and preparing food. Because it is a serve yourself deal hostels are a much more economically feasible choice. This means that a lot of college students stay at them, so we met a lot of other traveling kids from all over.

Another place we went in Ireland was island inshore, home of Dun Angus. Inishmore was one of my favorite places on earth. It was beautiful. A wonderful day. We took a ferry boat out of the island.

Then we rented bikes and cycled to Dun Angus. The island was freezing but so beautiful. I hadn’t ridden a bike in forever, but once I got used to it again it was so much fun cycling against the wind in the Irish country side.

After much meandering through the country side we arrived at the cliffs and Dun Angus. The wind was so strong we had to crawl to the edge or it could blow us over the cliffs and to a very certain and very painful death in the rocks and sea at the below. I couldn’t help but wonder how many tourists died a year falling over—there were no guard rails.

The structure you see in the back ground is Dun Angus, it is one of the oldest structures in Ireland… but we don’t know what it was used for.

By the end of the day I was positive that Inishmore was one of my favorite days on the tour… then I remembered that we had only been on the tour only two days. But looking back it is still one of my favorite places on earth. Well, enough memories for one day.

Umm... what happened??

It hit me today exactly how much my tastes have changed over the years. I used to seek out much lighter stories. I find that now I tend toward grim, suspenseful and passionate.

I used to tend toward stories like Pollyanna, Little Lord Fauntleroy, or Heidi to name a few titles. I ate them up. I loved these stories; good kids have amazing attitudes no matter what happens to them. They are able to use their amazing spirits to heal the bitter and crippled (emotionally and physically) people around them.

But then something happened. I now am more likely to seek out “gritty” “dramatic” stories.

Such as City of Bones … where people get their life changed… not necessarily in a good way because of mistakes the protagonists makes. I don’t care what your feelings on Twilight are; if your best friend gets kidnapped and turned into a vampire because of your negligence… it is a pretty big mistake.

Or the Inkheart trilogy; a beautiful story… but dark. Death is always a presence, especially the last two books. At one point the characters struggle to make a better world, but often have to watch as it crumbles around them.

The Scarlet Pimpernel is another. Marguerite is lonely and feels abandoned by all but her brother. She is haunted by a mistake she made in her past that resulted in the death of an entire family. Now an old enemy tells her that if she does not help him once more he will ensure that her brother dies. Can she sacrifice a stranger for the life of her brother?

Or How to Be Good: A story about a failing marriage. There seem to be no answers for this couple, Katie cannot stand her husband. He is too negative and is always putting her down. Then one day he comes home the recipient of a personality make over. He is going to try to change the world. He is a model husband and citizen. But somehow their family is still suffering. Through the course of this story Katie has to question everything she thought she understood about herself, her marriage, and being a good person.

Or Spooks. Yes, right now all my thoughts go back to this British television series. In these stories the characters are faced with horrible choices and worse consequences. Do you tell the terrorists where the weapon grade Uranium is being hidden? Or do you allow them to shoot your husband in front of you? Most the obstacles contrived by these authors do not have a solution, someone always has to lose.

I used to choose stories where children could save every crippled or broken person they came in contact with. I now choose stories where someone stands a good chance of becoming crippled, emotionally and physically. I just sometimes wonder how a little girl who had nightmares about the Chronicles of Narnia (but wouldn’t tell her mom because she loved them no matter how scary they were) could grow up to watch a murder mystery before bed. I’m just saying it’s odd.

The Conspiracy Fallacy

I am currently finding my entertainment in the spy genre. I know that in reality they might not have to deal with betrayal, life and death situations, black-mail, torture or explosives every day. I am sure the real career is not-like-is-in-the-movies. But that doesn’t stop me from loving the suspense and thrill of the contrived spy world.



So far my favorites are the British television drama Spooks/MI-5.



The other favorite has been Ally Carter’s young adult book series I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You.





These stories don’t actually have much in common. One is about adult spies (or spooks as they are called in Brittan, hence the name) trying to manage to save the world, balance their own personal lives and trying to avoid the various skeletons in their closets.
The other is about teenage spies in training who thought they were prepared for anything. Only to find they were not prepared for adolescence. They can speak Portuguese but cannot talk to a member of the opposite gender. It turns out it is hard to have a relationship when you have been trained to tell exactly when someone is lying.
However, these two series have a common weakness: The big, bad conspiracy organization. For MI-5 it is “Nightingale”, for the Gallagher girls it is “The Circle”. Both these organizations can be blamed for every complication that is currently keeping the protagonists from getting what they want. Even if another source is doing something it is only because the conspiring organization has enticed them into it. These organizations are after world domination and must be stopped not matter the cost.
My personal feeling is that a small group of good people fighting against countless bad people and organizations with different aims and causes makes a better challenge, and therefore a better story, than one single bad force. And yes, I find them less interesting even if it turns out that they have managed to recruit someone all the various protagonists thought were on their side. You can work the betrayal theme in some other way; many bad guys will always be more compelling than just one.

Literary Love

The other day I was on facebook, a terrible vice I have. Anyway, I saw a group that was titled “Edward is a fictional character and he will never love you.” The group was classified under religious causes. When I first saw it I laughed and proceeded on my merry, procrastinating way. Then I realized that while I had laughed at the statement, I disagreed with it.

When we read we are sharing the stories of these fascinating characters. This is the gift that books give us. All you have to do is open them and they will share their entire world with you. If you don’t like what the book has to offer you simply have to shut it and return to whatever you were doing before you started it. Cornelia Funke said it beautifully in her book Inkdeath "The world was a terrible place, cruel, pitiless, dark as a bad dream. Not a good place to live. Only in books could you find pity, comfort, happiness - and love. Books loved anyone who opened them, they gave you security and friendship and didn't ask anything in return; they never went away, never, not even when you treated them badly."

I don’t mean this to sound like reading is a completely shallow practice, a rent-a-friend type of simple gratification for people who can’t have real relationships. Reading is not a substitute for having “real life”. But I don’t feel that anyone who truly loves reading will claim that this is why they read. Reading isn’t to satisfy a lack of social outlet, it is introspective. It is a way to understand yourself, to see things that only you can see. Reading is very much a personal relationship with you and the author, confessing their secret wishes and fears with you, through the experiences and words of their characters. You in return give your time to consider what they have just told you. Even when reading a book out loud or with some else, the two of you are not going to see the same story or meet the exact same characters. You are two completely different people, and your individual interpretations of the story will reflect you and your life.

I guess it depends on your interpretation of love. I don’t know that I would want any of my favorite romantic heroes in my actual personal life. They are easy to perceive as perfect because of how they interact with the other characters in a setting completely different from my own life. I don’t think Aragorn would really fit into my life.

So I suppose that my response to the group above is that Edward already does love me. He loves me more than Mr. Rochester, though not as much as Mr. Darcy, Sir Percy Blakeney and Harry Potter.I know they love me because they have shared everything with me. They have included me in the celebrations of their victories, I have been trusted with their secret plots and conspiracies, and been there when everyone else left them abandoned, betrayed and hopeless.I have seen myself and the world around me a little differently because of what these characters and the authors who created them have shared with me. Because of this I am a little better.