Just a Frog in the Wind

Be The Change

2010-05-22T08:52:00.001-07:00

So, I graduated. I mean I walked in the ceremony, the actual graduating happened months ago. My parents came up with my 5 pound “sister” Daphne (she is a Chihuahua in case anyone was seriously worried about her weight). It was wonderful; we hung out at a cabin on Mallets bay and I woke up in awe of my surroundings, every morning.
I don’t feel much different. I am still in the same job, the same apartment, with the same guy. I am happy but I feel a tug to change something up. I love my apartment and my boyfriend for that matter, so I guess the job is the only thing that I could change. I love my job too, but I know I could do better, I could do more, and get paid more.

Or maybe I just feel like I have to use my degree, but that’s not true so long as I am happy, right? I got a degree more because I knew to be taken seriously I needed one. I knew I could design a degree that looked just as real 2 years into my 4-year program. What kept me here was seeing my mother, who is talented and smart and has 30 years of job experience; struggle to get into interviews because she never finished college. I don’t think the system is good or right, but it is, and I won’t become a victim.

Perhaps I just need to find a way to use design, a friend needs help making a website, or a local festival needs some poster designs. These types of projects are so exciting and they mean something to me.

Or maybe to create change in my life I should just get another pet, despite the turmoil that would put my relationship in. I did say I wanted a change.

2010-01-30T14:59:00.000-08:00

Work has been going great, stressful, but great. I am on my feet for 3/4 of the 8 hours I work, and although most of the dogs are gorgeous, sweet hearts, the owners don't often match their dogs. I adore the people I work with, they are hardworking and insane, and any lull in the hectic work will find us all in the front office, often taking about dogs as if they were 5 year olds. The biggest difference between them, is you can swear around the dogs and they won't go home and tell their parents what you said.

I have been working for a week and a half now and I just received my first paycheck. It feels so good to be solvent, of coarse all that money is going directly to rent and car insurance, but at least the money is there.

I am so grateful for this job, that someone thought it would be beneficial for them to hire me. To pay them back, I work my ass off. I may as well, since I am stuck at my work for 8 hours a day anyway. What makes this place so nice, is that most of the other employes work their asses off too. I have found this isn't always true of every job.

I have come upon a glitch. I am still looking for graphic design work, and I have been contact by 2 separate places that want to interview me. I am so excited and anxious, but I know I can sell myself. I have never not gotten a job I interviewed for, not that I wont, but I have a good track record. The issue is that I have to take off work from my current job, to interview for these new ones, but i don't want to let my current job down. How do you go about interviewing for 1 job and still do well by the job you already have.

Luckily for me, according to one of my superiors, most people don't give 2 weeks notice at the daycare. Mostly, she said, they just get fed up and leave. The least I can do is give my 2 weeks notice and help them train a new employee.

I'm just glad to have money in the bank again, and I can't wait till the day, when I am not living paycheck to paycheck.

Things Happen in Circles

2010-01-19T17:32:00.000-08:00

I am becoming more and more sure that life happens in circles. It is no wonder that so many ancient cultures use circles in their designs and artwork, like the circles etched into the stone in front of Newgrange.

This week I had a feeling. This would be the week that I would get a job.

Yesterday I gave up on waiting for graphic design jobs to get back to me so I went to a local coffee shop called Speeder and Earls, because I had seen an add on craigslist that they were looking for barista's. So I drove down there and put in my application and then I walked across the parking lot to Great Harvest and put in an application there as well. I walked to Drink, a local bar and applied for a bar-back position there. I had made a list of things to do that day including bringing up boxes from the basement, doing laundry, and finding a William Stafford poem to read for a poetry reading / celebration at Champlain.

The poem really settled me, brought me back down to earth.

Once in the 40s

We were alone one night on a long
road in Montana. This was in winter, a big
night, far to the stars. We had hitched,
my wife and I, and left our ride at
a crossing to go on. Tired and cold -- but
brave -- we trudged along. This, we said,
was our life, watched over, allowed to go
where we wanted. We said we'd come back some time
when we got rich. We'd leave the others and find
a night like this, whatever we had to give,
and no matter how far, to be so happy again.

I finished my entire list, a good day is a day where most of the things on my list get done. I can always tell how crazy my day will be by what sort of things are on my list. If things like feeding my dog, or brushing my teeth, or on one really crazy day the phrase "take time to have fun," then I am going to have a stressful day.

I have been feeling very untethered, and not in a free spirit / I can fly kind of way, but in a I have to clean and be constantly doing things so that I can't stop and think and float away further.

After reading the Stafford's poem and applying to those jobs I looked online and 3 new graphic design jobs had been posted online.

The best part of this week, is that my feeling was right. I got a call today that from a Doggie Day Care place in Burlington that they want me to start tomorrow. So tomorrow at 6:30 I start work, and I am so excited.

The End

2009-12-19T16:13:00.000-08:00

I cannot believe it is the end, not just of my adventure in Ireland, but of my journey as a college student. It seems so surreal, and to be honest I don't think it has even really hit me.

I am heading back to the states with a enough money to last me a month, health insurance that runs out on my 22nd birthday, and more memories than I could possible recount, though I am sure I will try,

I am listening to Emerson Lake and Palmer's Father Christmas, my favorite, and my mother's favorite Christmas song. I can't wait to be home, I have loved this extended vacation but am so ready to get back to my mundane, average, beautiful life.

My best memories from this trip have been when I took a chance and went off the list I had created for myself, and I urge anyone else who is thinking of studying abroad, or traveling in general to do the same.

Merry Christmas.

I'm Hungry, but I'm not from Hungary

2009-12-16T02:59:00.000-08:00

Vegans and vegetarians beware, the food in Hungary is meat laden. I loved it. I ate out pretty much everyday and the food was so good and cheap. Th exchange rate makes your dollars go a long way. Fried dough, covered in sour-cream and cheese, (the Hungarians love sour-cream), mushroom soup, traditional sausage, fire baked dough covered in chocolate, a hungarian calzone bigger than my head, and the delicious light beer. I also ate a burrito, in Hungary, it wasn't half bad, but Tres Armanas in Sacramento still takes the cake for me.

I am so glad I visited a place off the beaten path. I would suggest to anyone who is traveling, it is all well and good to visit tourist cities but the places you will most keenly remember will be the places where you see the least amount of tourists.

Have you ever been walking around, half lost, half trying to get more lost, and it is just the perfect time for it to start snowing. Well I was in that exact situation in the city of Pecs, in Hungary, and it actually started snowing. I stood by a fence filled with locks, placed there by couples getting married with a beautiful, huge church and Christmas fair on one side and a winding empty street on the other. It was perfect.

Perhaps it was because I was alone, maybe it was because I had been lost and I had just found a way back to an area I remembered, perhaps it was because I am excited about returning home for Christmas and the fair and church reminded me of my family, or maybe I was feeling romantic over the fence filled with locks, but I felt so happy and content on my own and I felt so excited to return to the people that I love.

Derry

2009-12-09T03:28:00.000-08:00

The town of Derry, pronounced Dairy, has nothing to do with the milk and cheese making industry. The trip up to Derry, in Northern Ireland, was probably the cheapest and the shortest, but by far the most fun. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it happened right during the busiest week so far for classes, last week before finals, and was a nice break from the weight of work.

I have never felt so surreal and I have never meet a nicer bunch of people. What made it so surreal is that everyone was so nice to me and my boyfriend, but their was obviously still so much tension between the people themselves.

We got to Derry at 8 at night got some delicious cheap food and cooked it up (Ben and Jerrys ice cream is less in Derry, how is that possible!) We hung out at the most amazing hostel, Derry City Independent Hostel and then made our way to the pub across the street, despite how tired and full we were.

We immediately got into a conversation with a man named Peter, who was sitting next to us at the bar. We got into a conversation about the troubles, something everyone will warn you not to do, and he proceeded to by us round after round. We tried to by him a round and we were told, flippantly to "shut up."

Peter took us on a tour of told. He told us where the events of Bloody Sunday occurred, took us past the spot where a little girl was shot coming out of a bath house. Then he took us to the center of town and expressed his belief that the founders of Derry are the ancestors of the founders of America. He showed us where he had grown up and where his now 91 year old mother had just had her birthday. He said, "Things are so much better, but these cannons are still pointing out."

I cannot believe how sweet Peter was, he just seemed so glad to be walking around with us showing us what he had lived through. We got back to the hostel at 4 in the morning and I have never learned so much from any history class as I learned in that 1 night.

We realized we were there for a strange occasion, the burning of an effigy of the traitor Lundy. It was beautiful and strange, all the apprentice boys on parade and the police presence and the shrapnel proof walls, put up on the sidewalks.

You could almost chew the tension in the air, but nothing happened, thank God

2009-11-30T05:54:00.000-08:00

I loved walking through Rome, and seeing the streets that others, more than 2,000 years ago would have walked on. The one day in Florence was not enough, though if I ever return in November, I will be sure not to wear shorts. Barcelona was simply gorgeous, and despite the many hours spent talking to the police, it was worth visiting. Amsterdam has to be my favorite. I biked around, in the rain and sleet in the city of sin. In the end I lost my passport. But if I had to lose my passport as a trade for the trip I wouldn't hesitate going again.

All in all the trip was so much fun, too much fun I must admit.

What interested me the most, was that talking to the police, whether you are in California, or Vermont, Barcelona, or Amsterdam is exactly the same experience, except with added language barriers. The lights, that make you feel guilty and suck the juice out of your eyes are always blinking rhythmically. People always look rather "lifeless." The police seem judgemental and seem to care more about their own regulations, than about actually helping people. I was surprised in Barcelona, that there were a lot more female cops and they were all gorgeous. Government buildings are never open when you need them to be. the U.S. Consulate in Barcelona only operated from 9am to 1pm. No government agency quite knows what the rules are. You get led from one place to the next, in order to get you off someone's back, not in order to help you.

I am not a criminal, but I have had to work, if you can call it that, with the police more than I'd ever like to. I am sure they don't appreciate all the rules that make it harder for them to help people. That is why you become a police officer right?

If it were not for the sweetest Spanish lady in Barcelona, who took time out of her reporting her car being broken into, to help us translate to the police, we would never have made the flight to Amsterdam. If it had not been for 1 police officer in Holland, who took the time to sit down with me. I would never have made it back to Dublin.

Just for reference for future travelers, if you are studying in Dublin and you have your GNIB card (if you study abroad here you will know what this is) you can travel within the EU without a passport, so long as you have a police report and that card. Don't let anyone tell you other wise.

I couldn't believe all the crap we had to swim through to get through this trip, but I also can't believe all the help we got from people you would never expect it from.

I know they will not ever see this, but thank you so much to the wonderful woman in the police station near Barcelona who translated for 3, very hopelessly confused Americans. And thank you also to the police man in the airport police station, who didn't try to send us to the embassy, but sat down with 2 sleepy and 1 weepy American to try to get them back home. You not only helped us in that moment, but you reaffirmed what was a shaky faith in people.

2009-11-13T13:37:00.000-08:00

It seems like forever since the amazing trip to Belgium, but it was only 2 weeks ago And in less than a week another adventure begins. Rome, Barcelona, and then Amsterdam. I can't wait. I just have to get through this week's dastardly amount of work. Since Tuesday there had been an 500 word paper and presentation and another 2000 word paper and presentation. Wednesday was a graphic design self portrait. Thursday was a 1200 page paper. That is it until Monday when another 1200 paper and subsequent presentation is due. I can't wait till everything due has been turned in and I can start planning the trip.

If anyone has been to either Rome, Barcelona, or Amsterdam and has some suggestions, I would love to hear them.

Brussels and Brugge were so beautiful. My favorite part of the trip was the De Garre bar in Brugge. It is down the tiniest street I have ever walked down. It used to be the red light district of Brugge. If you are looking for it, ask a local, it is in the center of town but the street is so small, we walked right past it a few times. Once you have found it, it will probably be a wait till you get a table. Jump on it if you see one, tourist tend not to mind cutting you for a table, and the waiters won't stop them. Once you are seated expect to be there a while. Their beer list is extensive and although they are a little pricey, about 3 euro or each, it is definitely worth it. Each round is served with a bowl of little blocks of delicious cheese. There were three of us and after ordering a round of the home brew, Garre, we each got a different beer from there and sampled each others. All of the beers were above 7 % and many of them were brewed at local monasteries. I wish we could have stayed there all night.

2009-10-28T06:28:00.000-07:00

My father's favorite Irish poet is W.B. Yeats. I have not read much of him, but after going to the Yeats exhibit my interest in Yeats has been peaked. I am so excited to start reading and discussing him in class.

His interest in the folklore of ireland and the good folk, his study of the occult, and his desire to experience something of a world beyond his own I feel mimics my fathers.

Yeats seems to me to be a true romantic, as I have been told. You can see in his poetry, and is so clear through his pursuit of Maude Gonne and his persistence to win her. I admire his persistence although perhaps not his taste in women.

I can see parts of my father and myself in Yeats. The desire for some sort of spiritual breakthrough, and never really obtaining it. Yeats was surrounded by interesting people, revolutionaries and rebels, spiritualists and mediums, addicts and train-wrecks. Yet from all I have seen about him, he seemed relatively normal, except that he was drawn to the strange company he kept.

To be honest I haven't read enough of him to make judgments but I am excited to do some exploring. I have the feeling that learning more about Yeats will give me more insight into my father's character and my own. This weekend I head off to Brussels and after I return on the 10 of November there is a talk on Maude Gonne that I am going to. If anyone is in Dublin while the Yeats exhibit is going on at the National Library I would highly recommend going to the exhibit. It is free.

Being Struck

2009-10-07T13:17:00.000-07:00

This past week I have been struck by humanities ability to treat each other like garbage. I don't mean petty things like, talking behind a friends back, or stealing someone else's food from the refrigerator. I mean real acts of viciousness towards other people.

In social marketing class we watched a documentary by Ross Kemp that began as a look at the politics and aftermath of Kenya's election. The documentary turned heartbreaking when Ross came upon the "glue kids" a group of children that lived literally in a trash pile and huffed glue. http://sky1.sky.com/show/ross-kemp-meets-the-glue-kids-of-kenya In one scene a mother handed a glue bottle to her toddler. The children described how their parents had been murdered in front of them and now they had to deal with weekly if not daily beatings from older kids and the police in the area.

The next day we went over "the troubles" in Northern Ireland. We watched a video where a man admitted to killing another man, hacking him to bits, for the sole reason that he was a Catholic. I remember when I was younger hearing a news story about a bomb going off in a girls Catholic middle school. How could a person bring them selves to believe it was OK, that is was right and just to kill a group of little girls.

Thinking about this I came across an article by a radio talk-show host from my hometown. http://robarnieanddawn.com/newsite/robsoapbox.html In the article he descries his disgust at a woman tweeting that she was happy to have had a miscarriage so that she wouldn't have to go through the inconvenience of having an abortion.

I was then given an assignment on personhood, and its effect on beginning and end of life issues, meaning abortion and assisted suicide. The paper I had to present on discussed that personhood means you can plan for the future and envision yourself in the future. That means anyone who cannot envision a future for themselves from the depressed to the mentally retarded are not people. The paper went on to outline the theory that because a human being has lost their personhood they have also lost their right to live and the right to expect others to care for them.

It is strange how things happen all together.

Whether we define someone or something as a person shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference in how we treat them. The glue kids in Africa are massacred and left to starve because they are less than people to their society. The Catholics in Northern Ireland are seen by some as barbarians who can be chopped up like pieces of meat without a thought. It is how we justify abortion, no woman should have to go through being raped, but that doesn’t make the murdering of a baby any less heartbreaking. It shouldn’t be easy to have an abortion, I have had to bring a friend, who felt they had no other option, and it is not inconvenient. It is like having a piece of your soul ripped out as my friend put it.

Whether it is your mother, or a friend, or a homeless man, or your dog, or a lizard on the road, you should not feel good about hurting any of these. Killing for food or to protect oneself is necessary but it is never good to kill or hurt someone. It should feel awful, it should tug at the veins around your heart, it should feel like a bit of your soul has been ripped out.

Into The West

2009-09-17T02:43:00.000-07:00

Last weekend all of the Champlain Abroad students took a trip out to the West of Ireland. We visited Galway, which was beautiful and a lot like Burlington. It has a street that's cobble stoned and you can't drive on it, where all the cute shops are. Town center was a short walk to the beach and most of the people there were very young. Watch out for the prickly grass along the beach because it will give you hives. We slept at a hostel with the best name ever, Snoozles.

After Galway we traveled all over the place stopping at abandoned abbeys, and old tombs, the cliffs of Moher, and fairy forts before reaching Doolin. Doolin was very small and the meal Champlain bought for us is the best I have eaten since my dad left. The tourist's there were quite a bit older. My father would have loved Doolin as it has 3 of the best pubs for listening to traditional music in all of Ireland. Everyone went to bed rather early after a raucous night in Galway and a lot of time traveling in a bus.

The next day we took a ferry to one of the Aran Islands. There is plenty to do there but if you want to do it in a day you have to rent a bike. I thought I would be able to walk to some of the destinations but wasn't able to reach any of them. I did find a secluded beach where the water looked just like it does in Hawaii, crystal clear and sort of turquoise. You wouldn't believe it, but I got a tan, IN IRELAND. I never thought I'd be able to say that. The fish was amazing, as it ought to be on an island.

The only down side was that I got sick at the beginning of the trip and now the rest of the school is sick as well because we all had to sit in the bus together. Sorry guys.

I just recently realized that I haven’t said much about the classes. Most of them are great I love my Northern Ireland History class and teacher. We watched a great and sad movie called "The Wind That Shakes the Barley" and I would suggest it along with "Michael Collins" for anyone who wants to know more about Ireland's struggle for independence. Also my Celtic Design teacher is very good and my English teacher is also great. The rest of the teachers I have no problems with, they just aren't teaching classes that I am crazy about. One teacher in particular seems to be having a lot of trouble rapping his head around our grading system, but I'm sure he'll catch on soon.

This weekend the school has planed a day hiking trip for us so I should have new photos for you soon.

Westport and How do you pronouncing “hurling”?

2009-09-07T07:00:00.001-07:00

This past Saturday I spent the day in Westport, which is a town on the western side of Ireland (Dublin’s on the Eastern side.)

The train ride was a bit tedious, it takes 4 hours to get from Dublin to Westport but the scenery was beautiful so long as you weren’t napping or doing reading necessary for today’s classes. I saw at least 3 old abandoned towers or castles. It was hard to tell what they used to be. Also if you want to see a load of sheep, cows and horses frolicking together in harmony, then this is a trip for you. The land was exactly what you would expect Ireland to look like and the animals grazed over the remains of stone walls that no longer mark the borders of anything. Also as a note saying “Hey” every time you see hay is not so funny the thousandth time.

The town itself was beautiful and had a bunch of cute antique, pottery, music, and jewellery shops. I stop in for a pint as soon as I got there and had some delicious sea food chowder. New England chowder has nothing on this stuff. This isn’t surprising since the 2 main ingredients in chowder are potatoes and fish.

It was easy to get out of town and walk to Westport house. The house itself is now a pirate theme park but the lands around it are full of trees to climb and mud to get stuck in and old abandoned buildings to explore. It was very easy to venture off the path and go exploring without any interruption.

After getting my boots plenty dirty I went to Matt Malloy’s which is a fantastic pub. Guinness and Beamish (which I think is better, it is a stout but it tastes a little sweeter) are only 3.20 a lot less than the 5 euro pints you get used to in Dublin and had a meal (smoked salmon sandwich and chips) for under 10 euro.

My only regret was having to get on a train back at 6. Next time I’ll make sure to plan a trip where I can spend the night in the town in question. Note: most pubs don’t start traditional music till 10 and will play all night.

Sunday was the GAA Hurling finals between Kilkenny and Tipperary. It was awesome. Hurling or owling or urling or uring as I heard it called throughout the week before is like a mix of rugby and lacrosse. It is brutal and drammatic.

Interesting also is the fact that the athletes who compete are not paid; they get compensated a little but most of the money from ticket sales and sponsorship goes back to the GAA. So as we were watching in a local pub near the apartments the announcers would say a player’s name and then announce that he was a primary school teacher.

Kilkenny won in the last 10 minutes of the 70 minute game. This win is they’re 4th in a row and that hasn’t been done in over 40 years. It was great to be there it could only have been better if I was in Kilkenny.

2009-09-01T07:02:00.000-07:00

So it is the beginning of a new month and I have officially been in Dublin for a whole week. A lot has happened.

I got on a plane with my father after a very bitter sweet visit back home, and traveled for 2 days. When we arrived my father noted, "This can't be Ireland, It's not raining." There was a bit of a mix up at the airport and no one was there to pick me up and take me to the apartments Champlain is renting. But a quick call solved the problem rather nicely and after a lecture on better planning strategies me and my father got in a taxi.

All my roommates were already there before I arrived and I have to say I can't think of a much better living situation.

The next day my father and I took a hop on hop off bus all around Dublin. We saw the natural history museum, which was great and creepy. I've never seen a dead body that has been submerged in a bog. In that bog all the bones disintegrate but the skin and organs stay intact and become leathery. A skeleton wouldn't bother me, but these bodies still looked so much like humans that I found it hard to look at them, but if you’re not too squeamish you should defiantly check them out. We went to Dublin castle, and the post office, which still has bullet holes from the 1916 Easter Rising. We also went to Kilmainham Goal which is a jail where many famous Irish Historical figures were held, especially those involved in the Easter Rising. It was the best tour I have ever been on.

If you are doing anything touristy in Dublin tell them you’re a student. Almost every place we went to had a student discount.

After that my father and I had dinner, I was surprised by the lack of pub or classical Irish food that is served at most restaurants, but Dublin is a big city and you can find just about any kind of food here. Everyone I talk to says the Mexican food is awful, but there are a tone of cheap Chinese, Vietnamese and Thai food restaurants, a sprinkling of Italian and a few Indian places.

After 3 days of orientation, Pat, my Dad and I drove to New grange and that was amazing. If you are in Ireland and you like history you will love it. When we got back we all had fish and chips from Burdocks which gives you huge portions; at first I thought they were giving me a whole fish to eat.

The internet at the apartments hasn’t been working until yesterday, but now that it is working I can be more diligent about posting.

Sláinte-which is cheers and is pronounced 'slawn-cha’

Camping at Home

2009-08-18T14:06:00.000-07:00

It feels very strange feeling like the room you have slept in, decorated and hopefully cleaned is no longer a home to you. After furiously packing away a bedroom full of stuff (crap) and having a BBQ to celebrate friendships that would have to be put on hold for the adventure ahead I went to my bedroom to sleep. The bed was the only thing left in the room. What was missing was the pillows and blankets I had so genius-ly paced away. So I slept in a sleeping bag on my own bed in my own room and felt as if I might as well have been outside camping.

I felt much more at home over the next few days sleeping at my boyfriend's parent's house or at my best friend's home in New Hampshire.

So after attending a wedding with Pat (that's my boyfriend's name, I felt rude calling by a title) and my friend, Sarah's graduation party I had done enough driving for half a year, which is perfect since I won't be driving again till January when I return from Dublin, I got on a plane headed to California.

Also in case anyone is wondering, Jet Blue is awesome! I can't believe I've never flown with them before. Oh and United sucks, but that's just my opinion, and no Jet Blue is not paying me for these statements.

So I plan to spend my week in California taking care of necessities (hair cuts, doctor's appointments) catching up with some very old friends (5 years is a lot when your only 21) and getting at tan (cause nothing will peg me as more of a tourist in Dublin than skin the color of a pecan). Also I am glad to see my parents who I haven't seen in over half a year and have all ready warned me that next Christmas will be the saddest ever because it is the last one I will come home for. I think sometimes they think I hate them when I actually do enjoy coming home and seeing them. I also don't think they realize that sort of information doesn't really make me ubber excited to come home.

My next post may very well be from John Bull's other island, that's Ireland if you don't understand my father's 1920's frame of reference.

Also, PROMETHEUS you are due for a post man! Love you and have fun picking up poop.

Predeparture Jitters

2009-08-07T11:03:00.001-07:00

Here I am, on a little beach between North Beach and the dog park, with a guide to Dublin in one hand and the collar of my dopey, enormous mutt in the other, and I can't help but feel unprepared. This summer has been filled with dry Irish history text books, and Irish movies (In Bruges was amazing), and weekly checking of Irish news and yet I still have no idea what to expect. The only thing I feel sure about is that the rich people at the horse races wear very silly hats. What if I hate it, or worse what if I love it and don't want to leave. I don't think my parents would be too keen on my living illegally in another country.

In less than a week I have to have all my stuff, and all the stuff my boyfriend conveniently left, out of my room and stored somewhere, and everything I'll need for a whole semester packed in 2 carry-ons and 1 50 lb checked bag. I had to do this once before when I moved from California to Vermont for college. If your asking "Why?" to your commuter screen your not alone; I get that question a lot.

Feeling unprepared, excited and frightened all feel very much the same, and in my experience if you feel one your probably also feeling another. So here's to drinking a beer, not a Guinness (I don't like chewing my beer and they're not even an Irish company anymore, I guess I know more than I thought) with my dad when we get to Dublin.