Julian of Norwich

"All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well."

Every time I think about (read: worry about) graduate school, these words run through my head. Then today, Fr. Ned mentioned this quote from St. John Vianney: "God commands you to pray, but He forbids you to worry."

Definite food for thought.

Oh my

Almost 2 whole months since I have updated. Well, suffice it to say that the end of the semester came with a vengeance after Cornhuskin', but I now have time to breathe again! Here's all I have to offer now, from the Simple Woman's Daybook (http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com)

FOR TODAY
December 12th, 2009
Outside my window...well, I'm at work, so I don't have a window. But I know that it's dark outside
I am thinking... about what to watch on Netflix when I get off duty
I am thankful for... my adventure with Grandma today!
From the kitchen... cookie dough in my fridge
I am wearing... my favorite turquoise skirt, a black shirt with a white sweater over top and my new black boots with tights underneath :)
I am creating... a scarf when I get home and get my yarn
I am going... to late Mass in the morning
I am reading... Alice in Wonderland for the first time, unabridged
I am hoping... that this will be a stress-free break
I am hearing... the sound of the heat and the click of the keys on the keyboard
Around the house... it's looking a little sparse-2 of my roommates are gone already and the last is heading to Indiana on Monday morning
One of my favorite things... is singing, which is why I am so glad I made it into Encore! for next semester :)
A few plans for the rest of the week: finishing apartment inspections on Monday, then baby Jack's 5th (!!) birthday, then just being home/helping with school/getting ready for Christmas!
Here is picture for thought I am sharing:

Soup

I have hit the crazy days. The days where I begin at 7 and do not end until 12:30 or 1 am. The days where I run from thing to thing, class to meeting to class to work to work to home to homework/dinner to Corn practice to bed. I want to say that I hate these days, that I wish for a quiet, peaceful, relaxing with with NOTHING to do, but really, I don't. Yes, I am tired a lot and yes I am busy all the time, but I'm excited to be doing Cornhuskin' and I like my classes.

Today is one of those crazier than usual days, so in preparation, I made potato soup last night. Lovely thick, creamy, cheese, vegetable-y soup. I used the recipe that my grandfather gave my mother; I don't know where he got it, but it is the best potato soup I have ever had. And right now, there is a big pot sitting on my stove, warming to room temperature so that in 5 hours when I have time for dinner, it will heat quickly.

Forethought is good. Groceries are good. Life is good

Senior Parent Night

The picture above was taken last night by my roommate/best friend Hillary; it was Senior Parent Night, a night to celebrate how far we've come and thank the people who have gotten us there. We had dinner and there was a dance (that we didn't stay for), but one of the best parts of the evening was when we gave our parents notes we'd written to them to say thank you. After we gave our parents the notes, we left to get the gift that had been purchased with part of our ticket money, a blanket that said Meredith College Parent Class of 2010. I made both of my parents cry with what I wrote, but that's not why I wrote what I did. I wrote those words because they were true, because I am deeply grateful for the upbringing I was given and the support I have received since I came to Meredith--I would not be who I am without them.

Love you, Mommy and Daddy!

On testing

On Monday I took a test in my programming test. I did not do so well on the test (read: didn't pass). Now, when I first got the numerical grade from Blackboard, I called my dad crying and told him I failed at life. He wasn't having any of that and just simply asked "Where are you going to go from here?" I sniffled and told him I didn't know, that I didn't have the test back, etc. I've been dreading this all week.

I got the test back today. We went over it in class and I realized that my problem is attention to detail. Once the professor started going over it, I realized what I had done wrong: for one or two, I just didn't understand the question; for most of the ones I got wrong, I didn't read the code carefully enough, which is where I made my errors. While it doesn't make the grade any more fun, it makes it bearable because I know where I made my mistakes.

So, I now have an answer to my dad's question: I know where I'm going from here. I have made appointments at the Learning Center (which takes HUGE pride swallowing since I work there) with a friend of mine who's a computer science tutor. I am going to start working the problems/answering the questions at the end of every section to make sure I get the concepts. I am going to pay more attention to detail on the next test. And I am going to stop thinking about this one. The perfectionist side of me hates that, but I really can't do anything else and stay sane. I messed up. There, I said it. Now I can move on.

And I'm really grateful for a father who has taught me that when I make mistakes or when sucky things happen, I need to take a breath, deal with that fact, then figure out how to fix it and not spend time wringing my hands over the fact that IT'S NOT ALL THE WAY IT SHOULD BE, which is what blinks in huge neon letters in my mind when I feel like I've failed. Dealing with it and moving on means that I haven't really failed, just learned from the mistake I've made. Which is a good life lesson.

Happy Friday!

Twitter?

Well, I've started a Twitter account... we'll see how long it lasts. It kind of feels like cheat-blogging at this point--I don't have time to write a whole post, so I think I'll write a 140 character thought so I'm at least writing something. However, given my propensity to neglect writing altogether when I'm busy, this might be a good thing.

Grandma and I went shopping today for a dress for Senior Parent Night. It was a lot of fun to go shopping with her like I used to when I was little; she'd need something for an event and I'd pick out the most horrible sequined thing I could find-in my defense, I did believe sequins made things indescribably beautiful! I fell in love with the first dress I found, which was this one:

Sadly, though, it was just a little tight in the bust and I knew I wouldn't be comfortable all night in something that was tight and low :(

We did, however, find this one, which I got in red:

It was a very productive shopping trip and I'm really excited for next week!

CORN!

'Tis Cornhuskin' season here at MC and for the first year, I'm participating! Now, I can't say too much about it because it's all secret until the big reveal on November 6th, but it's a big deal here. The link to the history can be found here: http://www.meredith.edu/library/archives/student_research/index.htm

Needless to say, I'm excited about being involved this year. I am also sore, not having danced in... 12 years? But it's a good kind of fulfilling sore and I'm definitely sleeping better at night!

Random encounters

Connections can happen in the oddest of places. Last night, I was reading blogs when (somehow) I came across a post by a young woman I have never met before, who was writing about college and callings and I felt the need to comment in her post because it was very well-written, but especially because she mentioned that her sister went to MC. Many posts & replies later, it turns out that, I not only know her sister (I don't think Rebekah would know me, but we're SAI sisters), but also one of her friends that joined in the conversation as well. And we have another mutual friend. Weird, huh? But very cool.

In other news, this whole housekeeping-while-being-a-full-time-student thing is tough. I wouldn't trade it for living in the residence halls again, though--I love having my own kitchen too much. And, for the most part, things are pretty neat around here, at least as far as stuff on the floor goes. There's an awful lot of toothpaste and makeup in my sink and the bathroom desperately needs to be swept, but I'll get to that. For right now, I'm too busy ensuring my future and making memories to worry about details.

Happy 3rd day of Autumn!

Almost autumn

My poor little blog has been sadly neglected over the last few weeks. I don't feel like I've ever really stopped long enough to even think about posting. I will however, get back to it over the next few days because I have some lovely pictures from our fall honors trip to Charlottesville this past weekend. I love the mountains

Stay tuned for more!

Confession and freedom

I was in my Global Capitalism and Ethical Values class this morning and we got on a tangent about the website Postsecret (note about that: while I do read Postsecret on a regular basis, there are often secrets with pictures posted that aren't appropriate when small children are in the room. I scroll past those and also don't read it when I'm home, just to protect the little one's eyes. Just FYI). As my friend Sam and I were trying to explain the website to our professor, who has no experience with it, she mentioned that it seems like most people submit secrets because of the confessional aspect of it. Our professor then went on to say that, unlike the Church says, confession isn't really freeing, but rather imprisoning because of the fact that, once you confess something, another person knows about it. The conversation shifted before I could object, but it did get me thinking about confession and what comes with it.

First of all, the most important point about confession is not the "feeling" that comes along with it. Yes, it often does feel liberating to tell someone and know that you're forgiven, but that's not why Catholics confess. We confess to take ownership of the things that we have done wrong and to ask God's forgiveness for them. I know that personally, I'm a crier. I'm that girl that comes out of the confessional with mascara lines down my cheeks because the process of calling my sins to mind and telling another person about them is difficult and often embarrassing. I also cry because I feel so bad that I've done what I've done; however, there are a few things that I know for certain when I leave the confessional:

1. My sins are forgiven. Jesus told his disciples in Matthew 18:18 that "Amen, I say to you, whatsoever you bind on earth , shall be bound also in heaven; and whatsoever you loose upon earth, shall be loosed also in heaven." The priest has the power to forgive sins because he is a direct descendant of the Apostles and is given this same power when he is ordained by his bishop.

2. The priest will never tell anyone my sins. He can't, because of the seal of the confessional. I don't ever have to worry about someone finding out my sins because the priest is forbidden to tell anyone ever, even in a court of law.

3. Once the words of absolution are pronounced, I am right with God again. And that is where the feeling of freedom comes in, for my soul is in a state of grace and I am completely united with God again. If that's not freedom, I don't know what is.

I think the problem that came up in class was the fact that most people associate liberation or freedom with not being tied to anything. However, we are a social creature and no one can exist completely on his or her own, which would be what makes them totally free. The paradox here is that I am free because I choose to live according to the teachings of the Church. I think Fr. Stan Fortuna, CFR, summed it up in his song "Libre" from the album "Sacro Song II" (emphasis mine):

Oh my beloved world

You have given me so much and yet so little
Always offering an answer to my questions
Always with a comeback for where I come from
And yet here I stand
Still full of questions of self
For your responses my world,
Have been an unread subscription
That lingers on the coffee table
With images that grab.
But your answers do not fill
So I just wanna say, “Yo soy libre”
Because I have been freed by the great I Am.

For I am as the cobblestone on
The Grand Concourse that call out
From breaks in the asphalt
What was once suffocating
From sinful tar and stony heart
Has been freed from the heat of Grace
I now see through the melting-pot holes
And now by my presence I call out
To the world that this land on the
Surface is not all there is or was
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

I am Carravagio spray painted
On the Spanish-Harlem wall
The beauty is unquestionable
And it calls out to all
But some choose to dismiss it
As Medieval graffiti
Chaining themselves up
With the fetters of false ideologies
Worshipping the beauty of creation
While executing in their hearts the Creator
Who has freed me
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

I am one who stands in awe of the martyrs,
But my tastes have changed
For once my heroes were
Pancho Villa, Che and Trotsky
For these died for what they believed
But man cannot find his end in himself
I too have envied the rich
Wishing it were I instead of they
For these lived for what they achieved or received
But man cannot be his own measure
So I have traded in the rhetoric of empowerment
For the contradiction of the Cross.
And now I know what freedom is
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

For what the Lord has kept from the wise and learned
He had revealed to mere children
That one must lose his life in order to gain it
Now my heroes are
A wrinkled blue and white
Flower from Calcutta
A bishop of a war torn land
Killed for preaching peace
And a man who goes throughout the world
Clothed in white
Saying, “Do not be afraid”
Lord, help me not to be afraid…
Lord, I need you to help me to not to be afraid…
Porque Yo soy libre,
Tu me has liberado.
Libre.

(http://www.francescoproductions.com/lyrics/sacrosong2/libre.html)

For more on confession, see the Catholic Encyclopedia entry: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/11618c.htm

Hail Queen of Heaven

Hail, Queen of heav'n, the ocean star.
Guide the wand'rer here below!
Thrown on life's surge we claim thy care.
Save us from peril and from woe.
Mother of Christ, Star of the sea,
Pray for the wanderer. Pray for me.

O gentle, chaste, and spotless Maid,
We sinners make our prayers thro' thee.
Remind thy Son that He has paid
The price of our iniquity.
Virgin most pure, Star of the sea,
Pray for the sinner. Oh, pray for me.

Sojourners in this vale of tears,
To thee, blest advocate, we cry.
Oh, pity our sorrows, calm our fears.
And soothe with hope our misery.
Refuge in grief, Star of the sea,
Pray for the mourner, Oh, pray for me.

And while to Him Who reigns above
In Godhead one, in Persons three,
The Source of life, of grace, of love,
Homage we pay on bended knee:
Do thou, bright Queen, O star of the sea,
Pray for thy children, pray for me.

We sang this hymn in Mass this morning; it remains one of my favorites because it is simple, yet so beautiful in its simplicity. The tune is also one of those lovely old tunes that is actually singable, as opposed to some of the hymns that made their way into church hymnbooks in the 1960s and 70s that are atonal and so difficult to follow that even people like me, who read music well, have a hard time following the tune, never mind the general congregation.

Today was the first day of Sunday School at our parish. Rather than be a helper in my mom's class occasionally as I've done for the last few years, I am "on my own" as a substitute teacher and I had the 3rd grade class, a class of 14 children. It was great to work with these children again, as I had worked with them when they were in the first grade in my mom's class. I did the introduction to the class for the teacher, who was getting her daughter moved into college for the first time, then read them a story about St. John Marie Vianney, since this is the Year of the Priest. We talked about what it meant to be a priest and why St. John was such a good role model for parish priests. After that, which was the end of her lesson plan, I looked at my watch and realized that there was almost 25 minutes left in the class and I had nothing for them to do. However, I've watched my mom improvise for years, so I knew that the best thing for me to do was think of something simple and quick--we played Catholic Hangman. That sounds pretty gruesome, but it was my own version of the spelling game where someone thinks of a word for the group to guess; as they guess letters, the correct ones are written down and the wrong ones earn the guessing team one more body part (head, torso, arms, legs, etc--I usually make it pretty complicated when I'm playing with small children--it gives them more of a chance to win :) ). If the word (or words) are completed before the man is completely drawn, the guessers win and if not, the thinker wins. Anyway, with my kids, I started out simple with "priest." They got it pretty quickly, so I challenged them (or so I thought) with "eucharist"--they got that one pretty quickly too, although the "u" near the beginning made them keep guessing "q," which made me laugh a little. We then moved on to "Saint John Vianney," which stumped them for a while, but eventually they got it. Finally, my trump card was with "Monsignor W-------" our pastor's name, which took them until half the class had been picked up to guess. It was a fun hour and I look forward to going back next month! Next week, I'll have a combined class of 6th, 7th, and 8th grade boys... stay tuned!

One sweet anecdote from this morning: there is a little girl in the class who has Downs Syndrome. I had worked with her before, so she was comfortable with me, but I know that she couldn't guess the letters like everyone else, so I had to come up with another way for her to participate. When it came to her turn, I would lean down and whisper a letter into her ear for her to repeat back to me. I wasn't sure how the other kids would react to this, but I thought it was important for her to be included. One of the boys, a child that I already knew was sweet, started cheering for her every time that she gave me a letter (of course I gave her letters that were in the puzzle--I didn't think it was fair to give her wrong letters): "Yay S---! She's really helping us win! Aw, man! She keeps getting the right letters!" It made me so happy to see her beaming at his praise; I didn't get a chance to tell his dad what a great kid he has, but I definitely will the next time I see that family at church.

In other news, this was an interesting weekend. I decided on Wednesday that I am definitely going to apply to graduate school for the fall; by Friday night, I had Carolina and Catholic on my list as definite places to apply, but the rest... it was all so overwhelming. It culminated in, after I got off work and came home to my roommates going out, sitting down at my computer screen and freaking out, sitting there, home alone (the only reason I mentioned them going out; that's not really my thing, so I was totally cool with that, until I had no one to cry to), sobbing because I was so overwhelmed. So I closed up my computer, packed a bag, and showed up on my back porch at 11:30 at night, tears rolling down my face (yes, I sobbed all the way home; I really probably shouldn't have driven, but I wasn't thinking straight), and sat down next to my poor confused father to cry it all out. Once I had composed myself, we talked and I decided that I'm only going to worry about those two schools because they are the ones with the programs that I like. It is wonderful to have family to go home to whenever I need them.

Speaking of graduate school, I need to go study for the GRE. Fun times :) But really, I wouldn't have it any other way

Officially here

Senior year started with a bang today (in a good sort of way). It was busy and crazy, but I think it will be fun. I am, however, exhausted, so I will wait until tomorrow to wax poetic about it :)

Bits and Pieces

Training/freshman move-in has taken over my life lately, but I'm happy to report that all the little angels of 2013 are safe in their rooms; it's a whole new generation of MCGs :)

My last roommate moved in today, so we went out to dinner tonight to celebrate Sarah's first day of student teaching. It was just meetings today (she doesn't start teaching full time until September 25th), but it was still fun to talk about our respective days. Living with these girls is going to be fun.

On the not-so-fun end, I went to the dentist this afternoon and found out that I have to have all of my wisdom teeth out, one of them sooner than the rest because it is both impacted and decaying. That's going to be a joyful procedure... not really. I'm just praying for strength to face this because the idea of surgery terrifies me. I've never even had a cavity filled, so being put under to have 4 teeth taken out kind of makes me want to run away. But then, it wouldn't ever get any better, so that's a silly idea.

I'm off to bed now because we have a breakfast with Monsignor at 7:30 tomorrow morning and I need to get up and wash my hair (My, I am quite the girly girl these days!). I'm officially a senior the day after tomorrow. Crazy times.

Take Thou Our Minds, Dear Lord

Every year on a Wednesday night in August, our pastor, Monsignor Williams gives a blessing at Wednesday Night Novena Mass to all of the students in college or graduate school who are headed back to school for the new academic year. After the homily, he calls us up and gives us a charge to remember our roots, our faith, as we go through the year and he reminds us to bring Christ to everyone we interact with through not only our words but also our deeds. This year, before we received our blessing, he handed out copies of a hymn that we all sang, with the congregation singing in the pews behind us.

Take Thou Our Minds, Dear Lord

Take Thou our minds, dear Lord, we humbly pray;

Give us the mind of Christ each passing day;

Teach us to know the truth that sets us free;

Grant us in all our thoughts to honor Thee.

Take Thou our hearts, O Christ, they are Thine own;

Come Thou within our souls and claim Thy throne;

Help us to shed abroad Thy deathless love;

Use us to make the earth like heaven above.

Take Thou our wills, Most High! Hold Thou full sway;

Have in our inmost souls Thy perfect way;

Guard Thou each sacred hour from selfish ease;

Guide Thou our ordered lives as Thou dost please.

Take Thou ourselves, O Lord, heart, mind, and will;

Through our surrendered souls Thy plans fulfill.

We yield ourselves to Thee--time, talents, all;

We hear, and henceforth heed, Thy sovereign call. Amen

This year, it was a bit bittersweet for me; as I walked up to the front of the church, I was thinking "This is the last year I will do this. This really is the beginning of the end," which made me tear up when Father was talking to and blessing us. But then I thought that really, the end isn't what I should be sad about. Instead, I should be excited that God has great plans for me after I finish here, even if I don't know what they are yet. God is good and loving and I need to be patient and grow in virtue so that I will be well equipped to handle whatever gift He gives to me next. As another hymn puts it, Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey. That is where I am right now, entering senior year realizing the importance of those two words in my life. Life is good because God is good :)

Quick and easy lunch: chicken fried rice

Now, I am a fan of Chinese takeout as much as the next person, but lately, I've been preferring to make my own, as it is cheaper and healthier. Stir-fry is a good, quick meal for me for dinners, especially when I'm just cooking for me as I have been the past two weeks. But since it is just me, I end up with TONS of leftovers and I can only reheat the same dish so many times. Plus, rice tends to get rather dry and (in my opinion, gross) when it sits in the refrigerator for too long. So what's a girl to do? Well, in my case, I make fried rice, which is good for lunch when I've got a busy afternoon of classes or meetings, which is where I will be spending this afternoon.

I start with one egg, beating it with a teaspoon of soy sauce (you can use more or less, depending on your preference), then scrambling it in a saucepan that has been heated with just a few drops of oil (I don't really measure, but I'd guesstimate that it's about half a teaspoon):

When the egg is scrambled, remove all those lovely little bits onto a plate and keep warm (on a side note, aren't our dishes lovely?):

In that same saucepan, put half a cup of leftover vegetables (this particular batch of stir fry was from a kit, so the noodles were in the original. Also, I added chicken when I made the stir fry the first time--you can add it or leave it out because it's yummy either way) and saute them until they are hot:

Add half a cup of rice (more or less as you desire) on top of the vegetables:

And pour in about 3-4 more teaspoons of soy sauce. I like a lot of soy sauce, so I used 4 (and I use low-sodium, so it's not quite as bad for me!). Stir these ingredients until everything is nice and hot; it makes a great crackling sound once you add the soy sauce and the kitchen smells lovely!

Once it's all nice and hot, put the eggs back in and stir to mix:

Then dish it out onto a pretty serving dish and top with some Chinese noodles (at least, that's what I like to do).

The nice thing about this is that it can be customized to whatever I have on hand--no chicken? No problem! If you like beef or shrimp, that can be added instead of the chicken. Any particular vegetable you can't stand (mine would be mushrooms) can be left out. And since I make it myself, I know there's nothing yucky like MSG added.

Having a kitchen is bliss :)

Brunching with my grandparents :)

Tonight I called my grandpa to invite him and Grandma (who is flying home tomorrow from visiting her sister in CA) over for breakfast after church on Sunday. And I just think that it's pretty fantastic that I can invite them over to my new place; I'm glad that I have a place to invite them to and I'm glad we're close enough to do that.

Growing up, none of my cousins were fortunate enough to live as close to my grandparents as I do. I used to spend every afternoon over at their house after I finished my schoolwork--it was my grandpa that taught me to cook. We would sit in his big brown recliner, me on his lap, and watch cooking shows, after which we'd make dinner for the three of us. Between helping Grandpa and my mom, I was always in the kitchen, which I believe is what makes me love cooking today.

My grandma and I would go shopping together, which we still do; I'm sure she appreciates it much more now that I'm trying not to dress her like a disco drag queen (if it was hideous and sequined, I thought she'd be beautiful in it!). She taught me to hunt for a bargain and to never purchase something unless I loved it. She has also always thought I was beautiful and tried to get me to dress that way.

I'm so excited about them coming because during the last 3 years, they have been nothing but supportive of my academics. Not that my parents have not been, because they are wonderful, but there's something about my relationship with my grandparents that makes their support and encouragement extra special; perhaps it is the fact that I am not as close with my dad's parents as I am with my mom's, my Grandma and Grandpa. (By the way, one of my favorite recent memories was the time in April that they came to MC for a grandparent's luncheon and we took a tour of this apartment building before it was anywhere close to finished. Brittany, one of my fellow staff members took a picture of my grandpa in a pink hard hat--priceless! I think I'm the only person in the world that he would do that for, even if it was rather grudgingly :)) . So now I'm off to bed, but after work tomorrow, I'm going shopping for brunch! Yay!

Counting my blessings

This morning, I woke up with a swollen face because my wisdom teeth are (once again) working their way through my gums (it's been off and on since freshman year of college--every time I decide the pain is bad enough to get them taken out, it magically goes away). My shins are hurting because I ran a little on my walk this morning and I'm tired with a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I know from experience, though, that the best way to get myself out of this funk is to count my blessings. So here they are, in no particular order:

-My sweet brother is bringing me ice cream because cold makes the swelling go down (obviously!)

-Ice cream is delicious

-I have a rockin' apartment

-My first Netflix DVD finally came today

-I reconnected with another old friend over Facebook and I think we're going to try to have lunch next week

-I love my job

-I have great coworkers

-My dress was a little loose when I put it on this morning, which made me feel better about my weight despite the swollen face thing

-I will have at least 1 roommate by the end of the weekend

-My parents are buying me a new printer this weekend-yay for no sales tax!

-I will get paid next week, which means I can purchase my textbooks

-The semester starts really, really soon

-After 22 years of marriage, my parents are still deeply in love

-I am at peace with my life, even with its unknowns

-I am a beloved daughter of God, which should be more than enough for anyone

-I am relatively healthy

Learning patience

Me with Father Tony at his ordination 2 years ago

I am not, by nature, a patient person. I like to have answers quickly and I like to plan out my life. This has worked out pretty well for me so far: I always knew that after high school, I would go to college and, by my junior year of high school, I even had my college and major picked out. However, lately, it has been a different story. I start my senior year 2 weeks from today and I have no idea what the future has in store for me. This is turning into a time of serious discernment through prayer; do I go to graduate school or look for a teaching job? Do I start trying to write professionally (and about what???) or do I look for a temporary job that will allow me more time to figure things out? So many options...

And yet, I ought to be thankful that I have options. Some of my friends are Teaching Fellows for our state, which means that when they graduate in May, they owe the state 4 years of teaching for the scholarship that they received to help them pay for college. The public schools in this state are not the greatest; in fact, I live in one of the best counties for public schooling, but that doesn't guarantee that every school is good. Not to mention the fact that a lot of schools are going through a hiring freeze, so it may be difficult for some of these girls to find jobs once they have diplomas.

My family had dinner with a priest friend of ours, Father Tony, the other week and at some point, the conversation came around to jobs. Father made the comment that some jobs require you to be "cunning as a serpent, but gentle as a dove," and for some reason, this resonated with me. Does that mean that I am supposed to be cunning but gentle as a high school teacher in one of the private schools in my town (one diocesan and one independent), or does it mean that I need to be in a university setting doing graduate work? I have no clearer idea, but this is the thing that has become abundantly clearer: I. NEED. TO. TRUST.

Crazy, isn't it? Who would have thought that that would be the answer? I read a quote earlier today in which the person was talking about another topic, but I think it works well here too: "I said that [trusting] was simple. I didn't say that it was easy." Often, I believe, what I focus on is the easy answers, not the simple ones. And yet, at every other point in my life, when I felt like I was going to have to make a decision without having any idea which option was the better one, I was shown the way. It will be this way with this decision as well. I will know when I need to know and not before. Again, a simple answer, but not an easy one.

On a side note, this film from Grassroots Films is, I believe a great reminder in this Year of the Priest about why we need our priests (the title is Fishers of Men)

Part I: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9a1DpmCDuc

Part II: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_SXSpzx4hY

In love with Netflix!

Since I'm alone in my apartment until next week, I decided that it was time to sign up for Netflix, something I'd been wanting, but didn't want to sign up for until I was moved in. My first DVD has yet to arrive (something about mail service in these apartments not starting yet), but I've just finished the BBC miniseries "Wives and Daughters," which, in my opinion, was excellently done. I thought they took a bit of creative license with the end of the series; I can't ever imagine Molly Gibson in pants, but I suppose they had to do something since the novel is unfinished. All in all, I give it a 5/5 for staying true to the novel and for excellent casting. I read "Wives and Daughters" in my Victorian literature class last fall and this version was cast exactly as I had imagined the characters.

Right now, I'm waiting for "The Lion in Winter" (with Katharine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole), which I haven't seen since high school. I'm also thinking that tonight while I'm on duty, I'll start the BBC version of "Mansfield Park," since the 1999 version was such a disappointment in the liberties that it took with the story, characters, etc.

Musings on Victorian Literature

As I sit at the information desk in our apartment building, I am currently enjoying the BBC's excellent mini-series of Elizabeth Gaskell's Wives and Daughters via Netflix's Watch Instantly feature. I also found, saved on my desktop, a witty little story that some friends of mine wrote while studying for our Victorian Literature final exam last fall. Every person mentioned is an author we studied; their works are mentioned in the paragraphs as well. Being quite ill at the time with flu and pneumonia, I can take none of the credit for this--it all goes to Amber, Eryn, and Meredith.

A Day in the Musings on Victorian Literature

by Euphemia Gray Ruskin Millais

At dawn, Elizabeth Gaskell rose from her bed, and met with the Wives and Daughters of England Club at the Towers. She went with her best friends Ruth and Mary Barton.

At ten in the morning, Tennyson was “Crossing the Bar” and thinking about In Memoriam when he met “The Lady of Shalott” and “Mariana” in “The Palace of Art.”

Meanwhile, Robert Browning was sitting “By the Fireside” in his “House” having “Home-Thoughts from Abroad” while watching the “Development” of “My Star” when “My Last Duchess” walked in and brought him some “Memorablia” of “Porphyria’s Lover” aka strands of blond hair. His friends, “Andrea del Sarto” and “Fra Lippo Lippi” came in carrying their new paintings “Youth and Art” and talked dramatic monologues about the new sculpture “The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed’s Church” for a week. Then “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came,” and Childe Roland and Browning talked about their immense “Prospice.”

E.B.B. came into the room with the men and screamed, “There’s a “Runaway Slave at Pilgrim’s Point”!” Hurry, read “Sonnets from the Portuguese” to hear about “The Cry of the Children”.”

On the other side of London, Thomas Carlyle was talking about the Past and Present of the famous author/actor Shakespeare, who was going to be featured in the new film On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History. Meanwhile, there was a crowd gathering outside in protest of Carlyle’s new film, so they were screaming “SARTOR RESARTUS, SARTOR RESARTUS!”

Helping his sister, Dante Gabriel Rossetti was visiting Highgate and talking to a prostitute, “Jenny,” “The Blessed Damozel.” At twelve, “My Sister’s Sleep” was interrupted by a wombat.

The wombat dragged my sister Christina Rossetti to the “Goblin Market” where they tried to sell her things in a Sing-Song voice.

In William Morris’ afternoon newspaper, there was news about a trial going on in “The Defence of Guenevere.” It was held in “The Haystack in the Floods.” The verdict was ambiguous.

As John Stuart Mill was reading the same newspaper, someone ran by his window and screamed, “WHAT IS POETRY?” Mill was so confused that he decided to write a disturbed Autobiography in which he argued On Liberty and On the Subjection of Women.

That afternoon, Matthew Arnold was at “Dover Beach,” visiting his father’s tomb at “Rugby Chapel.” “The Scholar-Gipsy” danced by singing “Stanzas from the Grande Chartruese.” Arnold ignored him and stared at his father’s grave, thinking about “The Buried Life.” Taking a break from his musings, he picked up the journal Literature and Science and read a critical article on The Study of Poetry and decided to write the “Preface to the First Edition of Poems” for his Swiss lover Marguerite.

At sunset, I was sitting with John Ruskin on The Stones of Venice, and he declared me imperfect. I stood up, kissed my illicit painter lover and yelled at Ruskin as we rode away into the fiery sunset, Unto This Last!

Thoughts about my mother

My mom several years ago during a trip to the beach, beautiful despite the wind :)

It is difficult to sit down and write about the person who most influences your life. It is even more difficult to do so without being clichéd. So much is said about mothers, and it can be a challenge to distinguish the sincerely meant words from those which just sound nice. So I begin to think about my ever-changing relationship with my mother, which, thankfully, has almost always (but sometimes not) been a good one.

We did not have a good relationship when I was in the 9^th grade. That was the year that, after being homeschooled since kindergarten, I patently refused to go to a traditional high school, deciding instead that, because I knew best about my education, as all 14 year olds do, I would be homeschooled all the way through high school. My mother agreed, on one condition: that we use a package curriculum, rather than do what we had always done and use a curriculum that she chose herself from different textbook companies. I consented and that year was a disaster from the very beginning. Mom chose a well-known company, but the rigidity of their requirements—things like using the few assignments they graded for 75% of my total grade—made it difficult for me to care. The volume of work was immense and after a month or so, it began to seem totally pointless. However, as neither one of us wanted to give in for our various reasons (Mom because the curriculum had been expensive and me because my pride was dearer), we stuck it through to the end. Both of us, I believe, were relieved when I went off to private school in the fall, a school which, although not perfect, allowed us the space we needed to enable our relationship to become more than it was at that point.

Our relationship suffered again five years later when I began dating a young man who, though not at all a bad person, was not right for me with regards to his ambition or his personality. Like all 19 year olds, though, I knew best once again, and caused both of my parents a lot of suffering because of my stubbornness in insisting, once again, that I was right and that my way was what was right for me. I couldn’t see any merits in her argument that being yoked with a partner who was unequal would make me miserable; in those terrible months of constant fighting, she revealed so much of the agony she had gone through in a similar relationship when she was my age, and yet I still spurned her counsel. Eventually, though, that relationship ended and thankfully my mother and I became close again.

Many of the young women I know run screaming at the idea of becoming their mother; I embrace it. Our voices are often mistaken on the telephone, and whenever a caller apologizes for thinking I am my mother, I thank them, catching them off guard. It is as if the expectation is still there for young women of my generation to be like the young women of hers and be offended at the thought of being their own mothers, horribly backwards and not enlightened. My mother is a fantastic, fascinating person and if I grow up to be anything like her, I will have achieved so much. While she has had many part time teaching and tutoring jobs during my lifetime, her heart has always been at home; she is a nurturing, caring individual, so it comes as no surprise to anyone that she is a teacher. She is smart, but chooses to use her mental faculties to educate and care for her family first and foremost, rather than just worrying about a paycheck. My college friends who live far away love coming home with me because she’s a wonderful cook; her meals may not be exotic, but they are made with talent and caring, which makes them even better.

I can remember as a child having friends whose mothers embarrassed them, not because of what they did, but because of who they were. I don’t ever remember having those feelings about my own mother. I cherished her then as a rarity among the mothers I knew and I cherish her now as a dear friend.

Look for another post in the near future about becoming my mother.

Honey, I'm Home!

I'm sitting at the desk in my new bedroom in my apartment! I'm surrounded by boxes, but luckily my kitchen is (mostly) put away, thanks to my mama and her wonderful help: she washed all my new pots and pans and helped me figure out where everything should go. My family has left now and I have a few hours to unpack before I need to head downstairs to begin training. Pictures will come soon, I promise! Once I find my camera, that is...

Busy days

I've had absolutely no time this past week to post anything; my mom's been working full time and so in addition to taking care of the house, I've also been driving people around town, which makes for a very exhausted me at the end of the day! I'm also trying to get everything in order to move into my apartment, which I will do in just 11 days! :) Hopefully once I settle in, I will be able to post on a more regular basis--things around here have just not slowed down recently. I should be off, though; we're celebrating my paternal grandfather's birthday today and I need to bake a cake. Mmmm, yellow cake with lemon icing!

Busy busy!

I've been writing more than I've been posting the last few days; I have several things in the works, as well as some pictures! On Tuesday I purchased a sewing table, so I now have that set up in a corner of my room. I also have several skirts I've finished and material that was just purchased today to work on AND a pattern coming for the 40's swing dress from Sense & Sensibility patterns. In addition, I'm headed down to the beach in the morning to see my best friend, go to Mass at my priest friend's new parish, and just hang out til Sunday afternoon. While I'm gone, you might find this post interesting: http://applecidermama.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-do-you-think-of-education-for.html

The woman who writes this blog, Bethany, is a young Catholic mother and shares my viewpoints on many things. I've just discovered her blog, but am enjoying reading her archives. Happy Friday!

Seamstress heritage

My great-grandmother Margaret, with whom I share my given name, was a seamstress by trade. She actually has quite a fascinating story, having been sent from Ireland to America as a young woman to follow her sister, who had run away from home. On the boat over to New York, she befriended a woman who was traveling alone and, when they arrived in New York, the woman offered a ride to Margaret to their common destination of Pennsylvania. The woman’s cousin, who was a coal miner, had come to bring the woman to her family; Margaret accepted the offer and, nine months after she arrived in America, she married the young man—they went on to have 5 children.

Why do I mention her? Well, I’ve been sewing quite a bit lately and I’ve been thinking about her. She died before I was born, so I never got a chance to meet her, but from what my grandmother has told me, she was quite a talented seamstress. My own grandmother taught me how to do some basic sewing when I was a freshman in high school; a few elastic-waist skirts, but until recently, that’s been all I’ve known how to make. Last week saw the creation of a denim skirt with a zipper (!!), a major accomplishment that is not diminished by the fact that the zipper went in and out at least three times before I was satisfied :). I’ve discovered that it is incredibly fulfilling to see a project that is practical from inception to completion.

This recent sewing binge was actually brought on by a $3 pattern from Walmart, Simplicity 2955. I saw it while looking for something else entirely and thought “That might come in handy someday,” so I picked it up. It was sitting on my desk, burning a hole in my pocket, so to speak, so a few days later, Mom and I made our way to Jo-Ann’s, one of the fabric stores near our house. There, I picked out a lovely turquoise patterned fabric and the necessary notions. After that skirt was completed, I went back and bought a brown flowered cotton; then I went back for denim… You see where this is all leading. This weekend, as mentioned the other day, I went through my old “craft box” that hadn’t been touched in probably 5 years. I found the lovely toile that I’m planning to make a skirt from and enough plain blue fabric to make a simple blouse to match the toile skirt. Coincidentally (or not), there is also a blouse pattern in the Simplicity 2955 pattern, so that outfit is my next project.

My other big project at the moment is to do some redecorating in my room. The desk that I currently have is the only consistent piece of furniture (besides the treasured dollhouse that my Grandpa made for my 5th birthday) that I have had since childhood and it is no longer serving its purpose. As an English major, I have a lot of books, so many that right now, I have books stacked on top of the shelved books, as well as a 3-foot pile on top of the bookshelf. Since I have several filing boxes, I no longer need the storage space in the desk, so this weekend, Mom and I are going to try the flea market to find a smaller desk just for my laptop/printer so that I can purchase another bookshelf. I also want to get a small sewing table to put underneath my window so that I don’t have to commandeer the dining room table every time I want to take on a project. I also want a dressmaker’s dummy, but I’m trying not to get too far ahead of myself.

I think my great-grandmother would be proud of me.

Skirts

Recently, I have become a skirt-wearer on a daily basis. In fact, as I sit here thinking right now, I realize that it has been over a week since I’ve worn a pair of pants—and you know, I don’t miss them! I always thought that the women who did wear skirts or dresses every day were overly romanticizing how easy it was to live your life in a skirt, but I must say that I have become a convert. I like how feminine I feel when I am wearing a skirt and being that I am in the South in the summer, a skirt is much cooler than the jeans I used to wear all summer long, since I am not a fan of shorts.

I know that for many women, the choice to wear skirts and dresses rather than pants is a religious one; they feel that that is God’s command to women. While I’m not disputing that, I will say that for my part, it is not a religious concern. Catholicism only requires that women dress modestly and does not mandate how that is to be done. For many years, I have worn pants and feel completely comfortable in them, but I have found that when I am wearing a skirt, I feel more graceful and feminine. I am a fan of long skirts, again not because I am concerned about the modesty aspect, but because they allow me to function more easily. I can sit on the floor to play with my youngest brother, climb up on a chair to reach a bowl or pot that is inaccessible, and lie on my bed to read without having to reach for a blanket first.

The latest book that I have finished is The Gift of Femininity, edited by Christine Muggeridge. This book tells the stories of twelve women who have worked in and for the Church for many years. All of them link back to Mary, the ultimate example of femininity. Each author points out that, like Mary, the way they discovered true femininity was by staying close to the Church and her sacraments, especially Jesus in the Eucharist. Without Him, all the rest is just frills—it doesn’t matter how graceful and flowing my clothes are or how well I keep a house—if I don’t have a close relationship to Jesus and frequently receive the Blessed Sacrament, I’m not truly fulfilling my role as a woman. It is through the Eucharist that we draw the strength and the graces to live out our vocations in the world; I know that mine is to be (someday) a wife and mother, so while I outwardly learn to clean, cook and sew, I also need to be developing my inner life through prayer, reception of the sacraments, and spiritual reading.

My summer apprenticeship is teaching me that there is so much more to domestic life than appears to the outward eye; this adventure is exciting, but challenging in so many ways. I wonder how I will be able to keep all this up when I return to school in two months. What will I have to adapt to stay on track with all of my school assignments as well as what will need to be done in our apartment? But I do know this: my prayer life cannot be neglected for any of the other thousand important things that need doing. For without prayer, without Jesus in the Eucharist, all this is and will be nothing.

Repurposing

Today I was going through my closet in an attempt to organize my fabric and sewing things. While I don't have a ton (yet!), I've realized that if I don't try to contain it now, it will soon get out of hand. As I was digging through, I found an old project: a white and blue double-sided duvet cover; one side is toile, the other checkered material. I have since (in the 5-6 intervening years since this project was begun) switched to a smaller bed, besides having received a lovely bedspread for a high school graduation gift, so this project was no longer needed. I ripped out all the seams--why I decided to double my seams, I have no idea--and am planning to use the toile for a summer skirt. However, the blue checks will make me look like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz... I don't need curtains (my room is a rose color anyways) and I probably have 5 yards of this material. I don't want to waste it, but I'm not sure what I should do with it... Any repurposing ideas out there?

The lovely thing about staying at home

is that a sick day isn't too guilt-inducing. I must have eaten or drank something bad yesterday, as I've been ill all morning. But my lovely mother offered to take over dinner for me tonight and told me to spend the day resting. So that is what I am doing.

My internship

I certainly have been a bit of a negligent blogger lately, but I've been so wrapped up in what I have begun to call "my internship" that I just haven't had time since I got home from school. I've taken over the cooking for my family (there are 8 of us with my best friend living at our home for the summer), as well as smaller projects like soapmaking and the lovely skirt I spent all of yesterday on. These past few weeks have been full of activity, but I've also had time to rest, something that's been sorely needed after my crazy semester. I'm headed off to the library, but I plan to post more soon (and often!)

I'm a senior!

9 days until the beach. I can't wait to lay on the hammock and read, take long naps for absolutely no reason, walk barefoot on the beach, spend the evenings on a porch swing with a glass of wine in my hand, laughing and talking with my family. Oh, summer!

One year later

I saw the professor I went on study abroad with today-like me, he is incredulous that it has indeed been an entire year since we left. Here's a mini-recap of the first week of my trip in photos (all taken by moi) 

"The Fate of the Children of Lir"-Garden of Remembrance, Dublin. This garden commemorates all those who gave their lives for Ireland's freedom and this statue stands at the end of the garden. The myth of the Children of Lir is a sad one: their father remarried an evil witch who disliked her stepchildren so much that she turned them into swans and cursed them by making them remain as swans for 9000 years. At the end of that time, they turned back into humans and died. 

Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin. One of the major cathedrals of Dublin, it was once Catholic but now belongs to the Church of Ireland. A neat fact about this church is that years ago, an organ from the 1800s was being taken apart and a mummified cat and rat were found in one of the pipes. Apparently the cat was chasing the rat and they both got stuck and preserved in an unused organ. 

St. James' Gate Brewery, the original site of the Guinness factory. The factory has moved down the road, but the original building still stands as a museum to all things Guinness. At the wall where visitors can post messages, I wrote one to my daddy, who has drunk Guinness since I was a little girl; I posted it just before I went up to the Gravity Bar on the 8th story to drink my free pint and take in the panoramic view of Dublin. 

The Liffey River, which runs down the center of Dublin. I crossed the Liffey every day while we were in Dublin. It's a rather nasty green color, which (thankfully) didn't show up in this picture. One day, we saw people doing a charity swim to raise money for cystic fibrosis research. It was freezing just standing on the bridge watching, so I will spare you the pictures of old Irishmen in their speedos! 

I'm not sure who this gentleman is, but the first thing we did after arriving in Dublin was to visit the Book of Kells. The ancient manuscript is impressive, but I was more in love with the Long Room, which houses other old books, rows upon rows of them. 

Going back through these pictures makes me miss Ireland that much more. Hopefully I will be able to go back soon!

Be Thou My Vision

The following is one of my favorite hymns. It is an Irish song that dates from around the 8th century. I think that the imagery is just beautiful. Enjoy while I finish out the school year-2 more days of class, including today!

Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee, Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle-shield, sword for my fight,
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight.
Thou my soul's shelter, Thou my high tower.
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of heaven, my Treasure Thou art

High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heav'ns Son!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.

I'm having a moment

I just finished the final copy of my senior thesis (written as a junior, because I'm just that much of an overachiever :)). My oh my. It's been a long semester, but I can't believe I'm done with it. Now I have to get my thesis director to sign it, as well as the Honors program director, then send it to the copy center for copies on good paper, then take it to the library to be bound. Merciful heavens. This is going to be seriously permanent. 

For my topic, I chose John Millington Synge's play, The Playboy of the Western World. Most people aren't familiar with this play, but when it was first produced in Dublin, it incited riots, it was so controversial. The play centers around a man named Christy Mahon from Kerry who arrives at a Mayo pub one night, claiming to have killed his father. Pegeen Mike Flaherty, the daughter of the pub's owner, falls for him because of his bravado, since she is about to marry her wimpy cousin whom she can't stand. Christy tells his story all over the village and is made into a hero; he and Pegeen fall in love along the way. Once he finally believes that he is a hero, his father (who wasn't killed by the blow with the loy--Irish spade) reappears and Pegeen's view of Christy as a daring young man falls apart because she finds out that he used to be no better than Shawn, her fiance. What she fails to see, though, is that he has changed because of her. At the end of the play, Christy takes charge of his father (to his father's delight) and leaves the pub, Mayo, and Pegeen-the curtain closes on her plaintive cry "Oh my grief, I've lost him surely. I've lost the only playboy of the western world." Happy, isn't it?

So, I looked at the initial reception as documented through articles and letters to the editor in The Irish Times. I then looked at tons of criticism, dividing it into critics I agreed with and critics I did not. My reading of the play said that Pegeen was the creator of the person that Christy becomes over the course of the play; many critics do not agree, so I responded to their criticism by pointing out the places in the text which point to my reading. I also augmented my own analysis with the critics that do agree with me. 25 pages, 50 sources, and manymanymany proofreadings later, it is finished. I'm waiting on one final approval of a small citation technicality from my thesis advisor and then it will be off to print.

And my title? "J.M. Synge's The Playboy of the Western World: They Said; I Said." As my thesis director put it, it's a smarty-pantsy title. And I love it

Book obsession

Yesterday went really, really well. I enjoyed having my mom and dad to myself for several hours and loved having dinner with my whole family and my best friend. Right now, I'm just glad my thesis presentation is done! 

While we were out between my thesis presentation and my study abroad essay reading, I went into a little bookstore near campus to find a thank you card for my thesis advisor. I came out with a book full of John Williams Waterhouse's paintings (like "The Lady of Shallot," 1888). It was only $17, which I couldn't pass up. Actually, I rarely can pass up a cheap book (usually I don't spend as much as I did yesterday, but it was an art book, which are rarely that cheap). A book that's $3-10 is hard for me to resist because you never know when it might be good. Which explains the two novels that I have sitting on my shelf waiting for exams to be over so that I can start them. 

Claiming my achievements

Tomorrow is Celebrating Student Achievement Day here at MC, where we have a day off of classes so that students who have done research can present it. I will be presenting my thesis, but won't bore you with the details of that; instead, I offer my award-winning (no, seriously) study abroad essay that I will be reading tomorrow afternoon: 

Everyone who goes on a study abroad trip comes back claiming that it was life-changing. For the first two years of my Meredith career, I scoffed, thinking that that was just hyperbole; I knew it was perspective-changing, but life changing? That seemed a little extreme, but after my own study abroad trip, which was spent in Ireland with the Meredith Art Department for three weeks, I came back claiming the same thing. Reflecting on the trip, I can see three different areas in which I was changed: I became a confident traveler, I forced myself to do things that I was afraid to do, and I learned how to draw.

I had never traveled much before this trip, other than occasional road trips with my family; the furthest I had ever flown was Denver, Colorado only a few months before I made the decision to study abroad. Of all the things that I could have worried about while preparing, the flight to Dublin worried me more than anything. The thought of being over the Atlantic Ocean at night while I was supposed to be asleep was worse than anything and several times, I considered cancelling because of that. I did discover during the flight that I am unable to sleep on airplanes, but not because I was afraid; I am not, evidently, one of those fortunate people who is able to sleep semi-sitting up.

In our pre-trip class, we had been warned about gypsies and beggars; like any other green international travelers, we were cautioned to keep our money and passports close, and I, like several of my companions, spent that first day walking the streets of Dublin wide-eyed, hand on my bag at all times. Holding on to my bag with one hand became second nature to me and at some point, I stopped staring in awe at all the buildings and started focusing on where I needed to go. My map-reading skills were greatly enhanced and by the time we left Dublin a week later, I felt as if I had always lived there, so confident was I in navigating its streets.

When we first arrived in Dublin, there were three things on the itinerary that I was convinced I would never be able to do because of my fear of heights. These things were to visit the Cliffs of Moher, climb Dun Aengus, and cross the rope bridge at Carrick-a-rede, Dunluce. I expressed my terror to Dr. Boyles, who, with a slight smile, promised me that I would be forced to do nothing that frightened me. After Dublin, however, I decided that I should at least try walking the Cliffs of Moher, because I might never have that opportunity again. Despite our bus driver telling us that it was a popular place to commit suicide because of the three hundred foot height and the clear drop to the bottom, I decided to take my chances and venture past the sign that said “Do Not Go Past This Sign,” which every other tourist in the place was blatantly ignoring. The view, so beautiful that it seemed surreal, made that little bit of daring worthwhile.

Several days later, we were on Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands, and we took a tour to visit Dun Aengus, a prehistoric rock fort, presumed to be around three thousand years old.  It retains some of its ancient security, for the climb is difficult and the fields littered with sharp rocks, placed there as deterrents to enemies when Dun Aengus was in use. Dr. Boyles had explained to us that morning that, because of the wind and the exposure of the fort, if we wanted to see over the edge, we’d have to crawl on our bellies to look. At first, I tried to content myself with walking around the walls and taking pictures, but as I watched the rest of our group shimmying up to the edge for the view, I convinced myself that I ought to try too. The view of the rocks below was at the same time incredible and frightening; again, a sheer drop of three hundred feet was not exactly comforting, but as long as I looked down and not out, I could focus on the stark natural beauty.

Since I had completed two of the three things I had decided I couldn’t do, I decided that, when we got to Carrick-a-rede, I would at least try to cross the rope bridge. After spending the morning climbing around on Giant’s Causeway, we drove to the rope bridge; the ticket stall was at least half a mile from the actual bridge itself, which gave me plenty of time to get nervous. It was a windy day, and the bridge is suspended a mile over the rock-filled Atlantic Ocean; the bridge didn’t look terribly sturdy, but it didn’t flip while we were in line, so I figured it would be at least relatively safe. I approached the bridge with my heart pounding faster and faster; the man at the gate took the ticket and I was off. My first few steps were tentative, but when I realized that I wasn’t going anywhere but where I wanted to go, my confidence increased. According to Dr. Boyles, I “sauntered” across the rest of the bridge and, after reaching the other side, promptly sat down on the edge of the cliff so that I could be photographed.

The final way in which study abroad changed me and forced me to grow was in my artistic capabilities. I have always been the kind of person whose stick people don’t really even look like stick people; my brothers laughed at me when they found out that I was going with the art department. I struggled through the pre-trip class every time that we had to draw from a photograph, wondering what exactly the trip would be like. Despite weeks of practice, my drawings never seemed to improve.

Once we were in Ireland, though, I was much less anxious about the finished product. I learned to treasure those quiet hours spent in ancient, still churches, trying to get the proportions of an arch or a window exactly right. While I’d like to say that I achieved absolute proficiency in drawing and considered changing my major to art while abroad, I didn’t. I did learn the basics, though, as well as the deep connection to a person or place that arises when a person is willing to spend time contemplating the physical object that is there; I felt that I understood the power and the passion of Jonathan Swift’s prose even more after sitting under his epitaph plaque, attempting to draw. For our final project, I even came up with an artistic project that combined my English major with the new artistic eye I had discovered in Ireland: I merged photographs of the Irish countryside with lines from Yeats’ poetry, which gave me a product wholly my own.

Now, almost a year after I first began planning my study abroad trip, I can see how much the experience did change me and how much I gained that I did not anticipate. I, like so many other study abroad alumnae, can go on for hours about all the experiences I had while I was in Ireland, but the fundamental changes were within my own person. I learned that travel is not something to be feared, but embraced, that I need to have much more confidence in my abilities because I can force myself to do things I thought impossible and enjoy them at the same time, and that embracing new skills, like drawing, can open up options that I had never thought of before. These are all achievements I ought to claim because of their significance and impact on my life in the States. 

Wish me luck tomorrow!

Divine Secrets of the SAI Sisterhood

I was initiated into Sigma Alpha Iota music fraternity last night; while I can't divulge our secrets, nor do I have time to talk much about SAI, here's our website  : http://www.sigmaalphaiota.org/home/

I'm so excited to be wearing my fraternity shirt today!! :-)