A Successful, If Unconventional, Halloween

I think this year's Halloween was actually a success.

The last two years haven't gone well (and that's an understatement). So, this year I thought I'd try and make it go a bit better. First I wanted to have a party. I have no idea where this impulse comes from because I don't actually like parties that much. But come it does, usually multiple times per year. The main problem was where to hold it. And that ended up being a big enough problem that it didn't happen. Then I thought that maybe I'd just dress up for school and hang out at my house and hand out candy with the boyfriend (he lives in the middle of nowhere so he's never given out candy. And it's also vaguely amusing to tally up how many trick-or-treaters we get).

Nanny Ogg

I'm six-years-old at heart though and I watched people buy their costumes and decorations and candy, it made me want to go trick-or-treating too. My dad made me stop when I was in seventh grade. Which was fine at that point because my peers were just starting to hold Halloween parties and I was actually invited. This year, without a ceili to go to or even a party to look in on, was the first time in a long time that I had nothing to do (including a speech tournament to prepare for/compete in 'cause I've done that on Halloween too). And so I came up with a way to go trick-or-treating that is a little more socially acceptable. Maybe. Kind of. A couple of my friends and I would dress up (because it's Halloween and costumes are fun and practically a necessity unless you're lame) and go "visit," aka get candy from, people we don't get to see very often, like friendly neighbors or old teachers.

Arthur Dent is the one on the right. 

More problems arose. Said friends did not have costumes, time, or money. Fortunately, I actually had costume ideas this year instead of my usual blank and vaguely panicked mind. Charlotte was supposed to be Nanny Ogg (from Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels), Griff was supposed to be Arthur Dent (from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) and Kate was maybe going to be Goldilocks. I was going to be Pikachu because I also did not have time or money and I had already put the costume together for a birthday party over the summer.

Pikachu, who I was originally supposed to be

Well, Charlotte put together a witch costume just fine, but in order to mark her out as Nanny Ogg, she needed a stuffed gray cat to be Greebo. Kate needed a few more bears and possible some stockings. And having come up with these literary costumes for my friends, I now wanted a different costume too. We piled in Kate's van and headed out to Goodwill. Kate got two more stuffed bears to complete her bear family, but didn't find knee highs or white stockings. Charlotte found a creepy clown doll but not a single stuffed cat, gray or otherwise.

Obviously, we are super cool.

We headed to Fred Meyers. Kate got socks because white stockings are no in this year and obviously we should have known that (*headdesk*). Still no gray cat stuffed animals. I finally heard from Griff who had been at work. He was late getting done and had forgotten my Pikachu shirt at his house. He'd taken it earlier in the day to see if he could fix the tail and make it stand up better because it bothered him that it was floppy. Now, normally this would simply be annoying. BUT! Griff does not live in town. Griff lives 15 minutes outside of town. And he needed to get gas. Which meant that all told it would be another hour before he caught up with us and it was already 8pm. In a bigger town and not on a Monday night, trick-or-treating at 9pm wouldn't be a problem. But this is Bend where we don't know the meaning of this "nightlife" thing you speak of and aren't you all supposed to be in bed because it is already dark outside?

I got upset. An hour later would ruin my plans and make the time spent getting us all in costumes a waste. (I love my friends, but sometimes planning stuff with them is like herding cats. I didn't want all my herding to be for nothing.) Fortunately, Kate and Charlotte did not let me stay upset. They let me mutter about killing Griff and hiding his body for a few minutes and then began brainstorming for new costume ideas.

Kiki (just in case you don't know what the character looks like)

We eventually settled on Kiki (from Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service) as being possible both cheaply and quickly. The main obstacle was shoes. Kiki wears red shoes. I have red high heels. But I can't really walk in them. Of course, there weren't any at Fred Meyers that would work (too expensive and didn't fit) so we ran back to Goodwill. No luck on red. I swear there were better red shoes there an hour before. None of them fit right now though. I ended up with brown shoes, which, while not strictly accurate, I would in fact wear again. Kate lent me a navy blue dress and a red sash to tie on my head. We grabbed a broom and called it good. (A black cat would have been nice, but no one seems to sell stuffed cats anymore so no luck there.) Griff showed up partway through assembling everything and so as soon as we finished, we all got in the car and set off for the people we wanted to visit. Not one

Charlotte wanted to bother her mom, whether her lights were on or not, we got back out of the van and giggled while Charlotte pounded on the door. Charlotte's mom did answer eventually and she gave us pumpkin bread (which was fantastic, by the way). Afters standing about awkwardly trying to decide whether or not to drive to California for In-N-Out Burger, we got back in the car. Kate wondered aloud how much pie at Shari's cost and our next destination was set.

Griff, Kate and Charlotte

The Stormtrooper from the group
across the aisle offered to take a picture of all  us. 

We were seated across from a fairly large party, one of whom, at least, Griff, Charlotte and I went to high school with. He recognized Griff too (though it was probably because of his hair, not because he was in band like this person thought). Even though we went in for pie, we all went for real food instead (I guess we were hungry. This always seems to happen though. Someone wants pie, so we go to Shari's. Once there, do we actually get pie? Nope. Almost never). We ate and talked and laughed and generally had a good time.

Back in the van, Kate decided to take Charlotte home first and we all laughed until our stomachs ached and our eyes teared up at an unintentionally hilarious story Griff told about being in Boy Scouts. We also discovered that it is possible Kate and Charlotte were in the same Girl Scout troop once upon a time.

After dropping off Charlotte, Griff and I rode with Kate to her house and our respective cars. So, even though things didn't go according to plan and it wasn't a spectacularly eventful or traditional Halloween (I'm carving my pumpkin sometime in the next couple of days), it was still fun and a lot better than the last couple. : )

Goldilocks (and her bears), Kiki and Arthur Dent

Summer Traditions

At Christmas there are presents and lights and a tree. At Halloween there are costumes and candy and pumpkins. At Valentine's day there are flowers and all together too much red and pink (don't you people know those two don't go together?). All special traditions for different seasons and holidays. Personally, I love traditions. Not all of them are wonderful (back to school shopping and the frenzy that produces in parents is never that fun), but for me they bring a connection to good times past.

I think most families have summer traditions. A lot of them, particularly here in Bend, probably revolve around camping. Vacationing as a family is probably another one. S'mores and swimming and the beach are all part of it. Unfortunately, my family doesn't really do any of these things regularly. Not anymore.

And yet, I do remember doing certain things in the summer as a kid like going to Elk or Suttle Lake to swim or playing in the sprinklers or a kiddie pool in the backyard. We would ride our bikes and play with the neighbors. Nothing big or very organized or ceremonial, just activities that we don't really do at another time of year (for obvious reasons I should think...).

A lot of these have slipped away recently. We don't go to the lake anymore. Kevin and I are too old (and too big) to fit into a kiddie pool. We don't have the kind of sprinklers conducive to running through. Now we work during the summer. We see our boyfriends and our girlfriends and we hang out with our friends.

It's not a huge loss, I suppose, seeing as the things we used to do were barely traditions at all. It's a natural progression to grow up and grow out of that stuff, right?

Maybe so. But I don't want to.

So, I've been thinking that maybe I will make up my own summer traditions and see how many of them I can keep each year.

1. Go swimming in a lake-- Suttle Lake or Elk Lake would fit in with what my family used to do, but seeing as I have no idea where I'll be living that might not be practical for very long. Rivers don't count.

2. Make s'mores over a real fire at least once-- Preferably on a beach but since that also might be a little hard depending on money and time and location we'll just say make s'mores once. (What? They're yummy.)

3. Go to the beach at least once-- Again with the location problems. Length of time doesn't matter though. A day trip will fulfill this one even if it won't leave me satisfied.

4. Bike ride. Lots-- Self-explanatory I should think...

5. Play Apples to Apples with friends-- Haven't managed to do this yet this year which is highly disappointing

6. Play at parks-- I've done a little of this, but I think I have more yet to do this summer

7. Go to at least one ceili-- This is extra dependent on location. It's kinda hard while I'm in Bend and they're all on the other sides of the mountains and if I, for some reason, end up in Michigan or Oklahoma it might now be possible at all. If I can't get to one, I should have my own.

8. At the end of the summer go to at least one play at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival-- This one I'm including, even though it won't be applicable anymore once I move out of Oregon, because it's fun and it's a great adventure.

That's all I can think up for the moment. Perhaps I'll add more another day.

Edit: Well, technically it's another day. I just have to add some of the ones Kate reminded me of any ways...

9. Hamburgers that dad grills-- Dad makes some of the best hamburgers I've ever had.

10. Have strawberry shortcake-- I like desserts a lot, okay? And strawberry shortcake just isn't right in any other season.

11. Go stargazing at least twice-- Twice because inevitably the moon will be bright or it will get cloudy or something one of those times. And if you're really lucky, you just get to look at spectacular stars twice.

Wrenches in the Works

Well, surprise surprise, things are have not quite gone as planned.

I had to move out of my apartment in Salem pretty right about two weeks after getting back. Griff and I went over and managed to get all my stuff packed and out in about 4 hours. Most of the furniture Allison sold me had to get donated, unfortunately. I also had to donate or toss everything I don't need or really really want. Moving is less than fun even in the best of circumstances (like when you actually want to leave where you've been living), as Griff and I found out while moving him out of his apartment in Portland. But seeing as I didn't actually want to move out because I liked the apartment and I liked living with Cat, this was even less fun. Regardless, we managed and all my stuff is in Bend, if not strictly in my possession.

See, the problem at the moment is that I've been living in three very different places for the last year. I have my room in Bend which has all my furniture and a lot of things I have collected or were given to me over the years. I went through all of it last year and got rid of as much of it as I could in a fit of temper, but there's still a fair amount of it floating around. Then there was my apartment in Salem. Well, to be truthful, I didn't have a lot outside of my room. Cat had a lot of furniture and decorations and even kitchen stuff so there wasn't really any need for me to get any. But still, I have a toaster oven and towels and a baking supplies and other things like that  that there's no use for in an already furnished house. And then there's all my stuff from Galway, Ireland. There's even less there, but a lot of it is now irreplaceable and very important to me. Still, it's not necessarily particularly useful stuff or things I strictly need. Since my current lodgings are at dad's house in Bend, I've kind of descended on his house in a cloud of stuff. Somehow I have to fit it all into the smallest of the three rooms I've lived in recently and there really isn't any extra space as it is, in my room or elsewhere in the house.

The other big wrench is that reality, in her rather nasty sort of way, decided that it'd be fun to remind me just how big the numbers are. To be perfectly honest, I maxed out my credit card while in Europe. Not fun, but it was kind of necessary so we could eat and sleep and try to get back to Ireland in order to catch our flight home. Which means that now I get to pay it off. On top of that, my loans are scary large. The amount I make every two weeks at Target is absolutely tiny in comparison and I will never get out of the hole at this rate. So even though things at Target have been, for the most part, a bit better (now, don't get me wrong, it's still back breaking and demeaning and the general public is still incredibly stupid, but some small parts have improved) if they don't double the amount of hours they're giving me and/or my pay, I'm going to have to get a second or completely different job. Which, I know, was part of the plan originally, but I wanted to do it when I was able to live on my own. Again though, at this rate I'll never get out of dad's house.

Maybe this is something unique to me, but I've looked at job postings several times over since I got my job and each time, when I think of applying for something a creeping sort of terror comes over me. What if I can't figure out how to do the job? What if it's too hard? What if I don't get along with my bosses? What if they don't train me how to do enough of it? Etc, etc and ten seconds later and I've talked myself out of even trying.  I guess what I'm really wondering is if this is something that only I do to myself or if it's something that other people do. Is this a part of why some people get stuck at jobs like Target? Because it's easier to stick with what you have and what you know how to do than to strike out on something that might be better or might not?

Any ways, beyond some rather large wrenches and the timeline in the original plan having to be completely scrapped (okay, a lot of the original plan will have to be re-thought now) things are going mostly okay. It's not all smooth sailing (by any means) but I'm getting through okay. And hey, I finally get paid on July 1st. Yay?

Changes

I have no idea how to start this. I guess I'll just jump in?

I'm not going back to Willamette for my final year. Lots of things played into that decision, but in the end, it was mine to make. I'm not thrilled I won't be getting my degree on time and that I have a crap ton of loans to try and pay back, but I'm not heartbroken either. I've never been particularly happy at Willamette. I love the friends that I made there, I liked my job and I appreciate the opportunities that have come from going there (working at the Elsinore, getting involved with ceili dancing, the Lilly Retreat, getting to go to Ireland, etc), but as far as academics and most of my social experiences have gone, I've been pretty miserable. Hopefully this will be an opportunity to turn that around.

Which brings me to the question of what next? In the short term, I will be living at home until roughly the end of June. Then I'll be living with a friend here in Bend for a month or so. During this time I will be returning to my job at Target. The goal is to get out of Bend and (probably) move back to Salem by sometime between August to September. I can't leave sooner because I need to build up some savings again, start paying off my debts from my "grand tour" of Europe and get ready to pay off my student loans. I also need to be able to make rent and pay bills on my own. As of now, I can't really do any of this so I'll be around for a bit (at least for those of you in Bend). 

The longer term plans are to get a job other than Target (something that pays better *fingers crossed*), be in Salem for a while (no idea how long at this point), get back into reading for fun (which has been sadly neglected over the last couple years), work on my photography (yay!), practice baking, do lots of dancing and recover from being completely burnt out on school. I'm hoping (okay, maybe more like dreaming) to be able to spend a week on the Isle of Man in a year or so. A little further out, I think I'd like to go back to school. Almost definitely not back to Willamette though. I don't think they can offer me what I need or want, unfortunately. I want to look into trying to take some classes in photography (not towards a career though), maybe one or two on architecture for my own edification, more history, and maybe some medievals studies and archeology. I have no idea where I can do this just yet, but seeing as I don't really want to be in school right now any ways it's a moot point. In and around this I want to travel more, most importantly back to Ireland, but to other places too. I want to go back to Japan, I want to spend more time exploring all the countries I visited on my "grand tour" and I'd like to see more of Asia and maybe some of Africa. The longest term goal is to get back to Ireland and hopefully figure out a way to live there. 

So... yeah. That's what's going on right about now. Just thought you might like to know. 

Getting Back on the Proverbial Horse

I went running today! ^_^ Well, kind of.

See, I have a confession of sorts. I got sick about a week and a half ago and things kind of... went downhill. I didn't get my papers done, I didn't go to the classes I didn't have to, didn't sleep much and so didn't get better, didn't go outside, didn't exercise, didn't really do anything. I made it through the last week of classes, if only barely. Now classes are over and my faculty advisor is gone. I'm on my own. I don't have anything scheduled for-- longer than it's ever been. I have a lot I still have to do, don't mistake that. I'm not free. But I'm free to set my own schedule for the first time ever.

The first three days haven't gone quite as I'd imagined. I really wanted to prove to myself and my dad that left to my own devices I would set up a decent schedule and take care of myself and everything. That's not really what's happened. And I suppose I should've known it would take time but I've never been good at being patient, especially when it comes to myself.

I have these bad habits I fall into when I'm being a student. Things like staying up too late procrastinating or eating in front of my computer. It leaves me tired and almost never at my best. It also means that I have constant weight problems. All of which totals to an unhappy and unhealthy me.

I have the chance to change that now. In the three days since I was set free, only small changes have actually been affected. I don't eat at my desk in my room anymore. I may still bring my computer along so I can watch an episode of a TV show, but I'm not hunched over my desk in a corner of my room anymore. I have slept a lot more and am not constantly tired. Though that one's kind of a toss up as to whether that's an improvement, seeing as the sleeping is being done during the day rather than at night because I stay up later and later until it's early again. And then today, I finally did some exercise. It was only kind of a wimpy short run/walk, but it was so nice to get outside and to use some muscles. I'm proud of myself for doing it at all because running is one of my least favorite forms of exercise (tells you how desperate I was) and because I really needed to do something.

I'm trying really hard not to make any grand plans or anything exercise-wise now. Just because I went running once, doesn't mean that I'll want to do it again. And if I start telling myself that I will run every day and I'll get in shape, etc., and then don't manage to do it, it's crushing. It's another excuse to be angry at myself and get discouraged. What I should do is try to walk or investigate going swimming since I've been wanting to do that for ages. And to keep chipping away at all the other things I want to improve. And then hopefully, I will be happier and healthier for it.  

Human Touch

I miss being touched. I miss being hugged. I miss having my head patted, even in that semi-condescending oh-you're-so-cute-and-naive sort of way. I miss being able to poke my friends. I even miss the boop game, that irritating creation of my little brother's.

All of this probably makes me sound really touchy-feely, doesn't it. The funny thing is that I'm not. I actually really don't like being touched a lot of the time. Growing up, I never enjoyed being cuddled or hugged or kissed. It was my brother who sought it out. My personal space is important to me and it makes me uncomfortable to be touched by people that I'm not well-- comfortable with.

And yet, I'm posting this picture as my Facebook profile picture and I'm writing to you about touch.

I guess what's happened is, I've learned to appreciate touch more even if I still don't want everyone or just anyone touching me. (for all of you who live in the gutter, go ahead and get your giggles out now, I'm not and will not be talking about inappropriate or sexual anything)
I don't know if any of you have noticed this, but people don't touch much. When you meet someone, you might shake their hand, but it's intentionally brief. After that it may be weeks, months or years before you touch in any way other than accidentally again. It's usually the people we know and like best and/or our families that we can depend on for hugs or pokes or a touch on the shoulder.

What happens if, all of sudden, none of your friends or family is about and you're surrounded by new people? No more touch. No more hugs, no more poking, nothing more than the occasional handshake. That's what happened to me when I started college. I went from having several groups of friends and lots of people, including family, to hug and poke to no one. I don't make friends quickly or easily and I didn't have the happy luck of running into someone who was touchy-feely and very friendly right from the beginning. This made the beginning of college even more isolating. I hadn't realized how much those hug attacks from behind or the high fives or whatever had meant to me. They were a sign that I was accepted and liked, a comfort when I was upset and a way for me to show the people around me that I cared. All of a sudden I was surrounded by strangers and it felt like there was this wall up around everyone. We were not about to start hugging each other willy-nilly or even shaking hands overly much. Most people eventually made friends who they could touch. I really didn't, at least, not until the lack of touch was getting kind of damaging. It got in my head and, along with other things, planted unhappy ideas there.  When I did make friends (and I love you Becca and Emily and Jessie and Jenny and Sarah and Cat, so don't get the wrong idea) it wasn't an instant fix. It took time to get to know each other and to become comfortable enough to hug or whatever. I probably didn't help things by being awkward and shy. Eventually, the edge of desperation did wear off my wish for hugs even if I never did manage to return to my happy levels of physical contact in high school (this is through no fault of my friends).

Now, I'm in a foreign country. There are seven other students in my program, six of which are from my school. A professor and her family (her husband, daughter and son) accompanied us. I didn't know any of the students or the professor by much more than sight before I came. I didn't have any friends waiting for me in Ireland. I was effectively alone. Again. I have made friends since being here, I think I can call all the students in my program and hopefully even my professor and her family, along with a few other people I met outside of our group, my friends. But it's still kind of a bleak scene hug-wise. And definitely no poking or booping (you touch someone on the tip of the nose and say, "Boop!" It's surprisingly fun). It was extra hard too with the few Irish students I've actually had prolonged contact with to know when it's okay to break the hug barrier. What if it's different here? What if that's not okay? I don't know the rules or nuances and there's no way I could know, not having grown up here. So far, I think I've done okay and not seriously offended anyone (maybe just awkwarded them out. Sorry David and Lauren...).

I love Ireland, I really do, but I think it's the lack of human contact that makes me miss the US more than anything. I miss holding Griff's hand and hugging Charlotte and booping Kevin. If I could import that (and maybe some of the Irish dancing I actually know how to do) then I'd probably never want to leave.

So, I guess the point of all this is to maybe be aware of touch. I'm not advocating you get touchy-feely. I'm not even asking you to go break the hug barrier with all your acquaintances. Maybe next time one of your newer friends is not okay, offer them a hug. See if we can, slowly, make it okay to pat someone on the shoulder or touch their hair without having to have known them super well for at least a year. Because I don't know about all of you, but I like being comforted and feeling accepted and cared about. Plus, as long as you stay away from groping, you're less likely to get yourself in trouble by just giving someone in distress a hug than trying to come up with the right words (right Griff?).

Thanks to DomiSM on Deviantart for the graphic that started all of this. : )

Harry Potter!

Another short post that I'm not sure the other blog readers would be interested in. When I went to Smyth's, I found all the Harry Potter books. But what caught my attention, beyond a general yay-Harry-Potter, was the covers. They're very different from the U.S. covers and the pictures I've seen of the UK covers (admittedly I've never seen pictures of the Irish covers).

This is what they looked like:



Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone



Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire



Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban <3



Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

So not quite in order, but still, I thought it was interesting how comparatively plain they are. Much simpler and less brightly colored. I wonder why they did it this way? Why are these completely different pictures on a plain background? Why is the Harry Potter part of each title in gold instead of in the colors associated with each book in the US? I don't have answers for any of these questions, but just seeing them made me happy and so here they are. : D

F**ck It!

Just because I'm not sure how well it would go down with my grandparents, I'll post my favorite picture from my second day here instead:

I found this book at Eason's, a bookstore in the the Galway Shopping Center. It made me giggle. : D

I've Never Been to Texas or New Jersey Before

Arguably, I still haven't. Unless you count airports. I think airports should half count. I mean, isn't “well-- kind of” a more intriguing answer to “Have you ever been to ____?” But let me start at the beginning.

January 2^nd, 2011. Griff got a zipcar and came back to get me and my stuff from Salem. (Shannon's travel tip #1: Pack lightly but completely if going abroad. You don't know what will and won't be available or how much you will be asked to pay, so cover the basics and the things you need to make yourself comfortable.) We were having bag weight issues so he and Cat worked on re-packing my two big bags while I looked at my backpack. (Tip #2: Have spatially oriented people help you pack, they're better at it than you are) Cat even used her bag scale thingy-ma-bobber to help get them close to the 50 pound limit. Once we had all finished, Griff and I packed up the car, stopped by the school to drop off some late library books, hit Quizno's to get dinner and drove to Portland. Once there he dropped me, my stuff and the rest of his stuff off at his apartment. He took the car back while I talked to Sarah. Griff and I sat in his room and talked and hugged for a little while before setting out for the train station.

At the train station we found out it'd be half an hour before the train we needed would be there. So we set off walking down to the line we actually needed. We were four blocks away when the train we needed pulled out. Once we got to the station we found out it'd be 40 minutes before the next one came. Some creepy guys were wandering around and they kept stopping and asking us for money. Griff reserved a zipcar and he was going to run and get it, but I wouldn't let him leave me at the train station. We walked back towards the car a little ways until we found a hotel. I sat down in the lobby and he took off to get the car. While I was waiting, these random people walked past. The man said that he liked my hat (I was wearing my panda hat) and asked if I'd named it yet. I said no. He asked if there were any interesting possibilities. I said something that starts with a 'p'. From farther into the lobby the lady said, “Pamela!” I don't think I'll name my hat Pamela. It reminds me too much of Pamela Anderson and I've never liked her much.

Griff came with the car and we loaded up. We drove to the airport, he parked and we went in. It was 10:20 pm. I had an hour and a half. Less than ideal, but better than the train. I got my boarding pass without too much trouble. I had to pay $50 for my second checked bag, but since I'd looked up how many bags were allowed, I expected that. I'm just glad they didn't count it as a domestic flight or it would've been $35 for the first bag and $45 for the second one (Continental is a rip off I think). I took them over to the scanner guys and we walked to security. I didn't know if I'd need to go through extra security so I made sure to have my license, passport and boarding passes all ready. I hugged and kissed Griff goodbye and tried not to cry.



My first boarding pass



My gate, D1

The line for security was almost non-existent. I got my boarding pass checked and starting taking things off to walk through the scanner. I fully expected to get patted down because I was wearing a loose skirt again (my green/brown one that I got patted down in when we flew to Arizona for Thanksgiving). They didn't even do that. They were entirely uninterested in me. After I walked through the scanner, I gathered my things and walked to gate D1. It was the first one down the hall to the left. I sat down and called dad. We talked for a bit and then I talked to Griff and texted Charlotte. I watched the people around me. There were a lot of army guys waiting in the same area. They started boarding after 11:10 or so. They didn't pull me aside this time, like they did when I went to Japan, because I have a common, boring name. It all went remarkably smoothly. On the plane one of the army guys told me he liked my hat. I sat down in the aisle seat next to an elderly woman. There was another elderly woman on her other side (possibly a sister?). We took off after a little while. There were screens that came down from the ceiling at intervals down the plane. They played Guardians of Ga'hoole first. Apparently I fell asleep waiting for us to take off though so I missed it when the woman next to me put up the armrest which is where the headphone jack was. I watched some of the movie, but since I haven't read the books, it didn't make any sense what-so-ever. I fell asleep again after a little while, but I woke back up once they turned the screens back on (I think they were off for a while after the movie ended) to play some TV shows. The shows weren't remotely interesting without any sound (and since they were reality TV, likely not with it either). I couldn't fall back asleep because the light from the screens was really annoying and because the woman's hand had fallen between our seats, against my leg and it was twitching while she slept. It was only a three hour flight into Houston (Bush has an airport... scary o_O) but it felt like it took forever.

Good ol' Shrubby's very special airport.

We landed, I waited my turn to get off the plane and then set off for my next gate. I only had a two hour layover so I wanted to find where I was supposed to be before stopping to do anything. I found my gate and called dad. At this point it was 6 or so in the morning in Houston and about 4 am in Oregon. I got hungry and bored so I went to get food. I was going to go to Starbucks but the line was super long. I ended up going to The Little Creamery instead. I got an iced mocha and a croissant with cheese, ham and egg on it. It was $9.47 (ridiculous prices!) and it tasted pretty okay. I went back to my gate to eat it so I could set my bags down. (Travel tip #3: Don't travel alone if you can help it. Either that or don't pack anything to carry on. It's a pain in the butt to have to carry all your stuff around all the time.) I got out my computer after I finished eating and set about trying to see if I could pick up any wi-fi. Houston doesn't have free wi-fi. They have Boingo. Boingo will give you 45 free minutes. I started writing my Scealta Luch post, but it was waiting to upload pictures that really ate my time. In the end I didn't even get to publish the post.

We boarded the plane a little late. It was late getting in and then they had to clean it. All they'd tell us was that it was an international flight from Buenos Aires and that it was taking extra time to clean. This made me wonder, “Are people from Buenos Aires extra dirty or what...?” It turns out that the plane was just really big. The first one I'd been on that day had three seats on each side of an aisle. This one had two seats, an aisle, four seats, another aisle, and two more seats. I was in one of the two seat sets. The woman I was supposed to sit next to just kind of looked at me when I walked up and said hello. It literally took her a minute to move so I could put my bag in the overhead compartment. I ended up having to switch them out any ways because there was a plastic piece blocking my backpack. It was so huge I couldn't get it down there. After everyone had finished boarding we looked around and more than half the seats were empty. The lady decided to move up a row so I got two seats to myself. It was a much more comfortable flight. There were screen on the back of every seat where people could watch movies or TV shows, listen to music or play games. I tried watching something (it was NCIS: Las Vegas, but I didn't recognize it at the time), but I got bored really fast. I played Black Jack for a while and I wasn't doing too bad, but I got bored of that really quickly too. I slept some. As we were coming into New Jersey I was looking out the window. I expected to see lots of snow but mostly there was ice on the water and little patches of snow scattered about. Everything was really brown. I know it's winter and all, but it seemed extra brown compared to Oregon. As we got over Newark I saw tall skinny townhouse type things. We don't really have those in Bend or Salem, but that was the most interesting thing I could see.

We landed without incident and I went to the gate indicated on my ticket. I tried to check that it was still on time and that I was in the right place, but it was noon and my flight left at 7:40 pm so it wasn't even on the boards yet. I spent some time at the gate just staring into space and trying to decide what to do next. It was kind of nice not to think or worry for a while. I just drifted. Eventually I went in search of food. As I looked I decided I wanted Chinese food. I couldn't find Chinese food, so I decided I wasn't hungry after all. I got a Coke instead. It was expensive, $2.00 and some. I went back to the gate and slept. It was such a long time that it's kind of blurred out. I read some at some point. I texted a bit. I found a bigger board that had only one flight to Shannon, Ireland listed for that day. But it was supposed to be leaving at 7:25 from a completely different gate and there were three airlines listed with it. My flight number was listed too, but since I had hours to go, I decided to wait and see. Around 4 it came up on the board nearer me with the same, other, gate listed. I gathered up my stuff and went to find the other gate. Once I did, I had to sit on the floor because a bunch of people were there for a 5:45 flight to San Francisco. The space was shared with the gate next door and they were waiting for a 5:00 flight to Orange County. 5 pm came and went... they still hadn't boarded. I don't remember when either flight boarded exactly, but both were late. I wandered off to get food before either left. Griff made me want a hamburger, but of course, I couldn't find one. I got terriyaki chicken, rice and steamed vegetables from Sarku Japan instead. There was an irritating foreign woman and man (they had Russian-ish accents, I think) that cut the line waiting for their food and took off with it before anybody else got theirs. I ended up sitting next to them in the eating area. They were quite loud. I had a vague idea of getting a Jamba Juice before getting on the plane, but I forgot.



Looking back towards where I ate


After eating I went back to waiting area which was a lot more empty now. I took a couple pictures and started writing this post. Professor Petersen found me after I was a couple sentences in. She sat down and we talked for a little while. It was nice to know that someone else from Willamette was on my flight. Made me feel a little safer somehow. As we got closer to when we should've been boarding, she went back to check on her family. I made my last calls to dad and Griff and texted Charlotte. The battery of my phone was dying and I couldn't remember if I'd grabbed my charger or where I'd packed it. I put my laptop away and grabbed my stuff again. I looked in an outer pocket of my laptop case and, what do you know, there was my phone charger. I grabbed it and plugged my phone in for two minutes or so before I was called to board. We were supposed to take off at 7:25, but we didn't leave until almost 8pm. I was sitting two rows from the back of the plane. Professor Petersen was in the row behind me. I'd been hoping to have space like I did earlier, but this plane wasn't as big and they said it was supposed to be a full flight. I sat by the window because I wanted to be able to take pictures of my glimpses or Ireland. An elderly man, who I think was probably Irish, was put in the aisle seat of my row (he seemed to have an accent. He had to be put in the seat because he'd sat in the wrong place twice already). Every person that came down the aisle, I expected to sit between us. No one did. We got exceptionally lucky. I let the elderly man put his carry on under the empty seat, but I put my coats and hat and scarf on the seat. By this point my hair and skin felt disgusting. I really wanted a shower, but I knew it'd be hours before I got one. We were taking so long to start moving that I plugged into my screen and started looking at what we could watch. We had individual screens again and they were much nicer than the ones on the flight to Newark. No remotes and a lot clearer. I found NCIS, but I'd seen all the episodes they were offering. I started watching NCIS: Las Vegas. For a spin off, it's actually pretty good. I'm pleased. Every time someone got on the intercom to make an announcement though, it would literally blast my ears through the headphones. It actually hurt. Finally we took off.

Pandahar!

It was a 6 hour flight. I had orange juice when the lady first came around. I watched all three NCIS episodes and fell asleep before they came round again. They were offering dinner that time, but I declined. I wasn't hungry and airplane food is icky. I'd eaten my animal crackers earlier in the day so I ate some Oreos while I was watching my shows. When I got hungry I'd just eat one of them. I slept on and off for most of the flight. I didn't have breakfast on the plane either. As we got closer, I woke up and looked out the window. It was pitch black because we were still over the ocean. Then we dropped into some clouds and everything was gray for a couple minutes. Underneath the clouds there still wasn't much to see. There were scattered lights, but no huge lit up areas like even the smallest US cities. There was what looked like streamers of tulle coming off the plane wings. It reminded me of Sharon and how this post is to be dedicated to her. It was still very dark out when we landed and it was a bumpier landing than it had been.

On the ground, I put my wool coat, my hat and my scarf all back on. It took a while to get off the plane. The airport was absolutely empty when we got into it. We had to go down at least four escalators to get to customs. We were about 15 minutes late, I think. There was a long line, or queue as it would be called here, in front of the two elderly men who were there to let us into the country. They had everyone who wasn't a student go through first. There were at least 70 (maybe more, maybe less, I'm awful at estimating numbers of people) of us left. Professor Petersen and her family waited a little longer, but after 45 minutes of so they decided to skip up the line. Professor Petersen stopped to tell me that she'd try to keep the cab driver from leaving. I don't know what took so long but I waited over two hours in line to get through customs. All I could see was that the men were looking at papers and taking pictures and typing on their computers. At first I amused myself looking at the ads on the walls and the Pacman-like shapes that ate the letters on the sign that told the EU passengers where to go. I got bored of that prett quickly so I started eavesdropping on the group in from of me.  Apparently they were all from the same school. None of them seemed very bright. They were talking about how t-shirts were an American thing and planning a trip to Paris and going out to the pubs and clubs every night. I was not impressed by them. One girl had forgotten to put her acceptance letter from NUIG in her carry on. Since we aren't required to have visas, you have to have a letter from the school proving that you have a reason to be in the country for so long. If she'd done any real research at all or if her school told her anything it should've been that. And she was an engineering student! They're not supposed to be that dumb. If they are I guess that explains why dad doesn't like them much. Finally, there were 15 or so people in front of me. Another flight had just landed and the line behind us had gotten really long. One of the men let everyone from the EU go through. All the other people had to wait behind us though and I wasn't last in line. Some decision seemed to be made because all of a sudden, the line started moving a lot faster. I got up to the window and I gave the man my letter and my passport. He asked if I had proof of insurance and of finance. I gave him my insurance card and told him I was going to open an Irish bank account. In a monotone voice he told me I had to have proof of finance 30 days from right then. I said okay and he gestured me through. I scrambled to get all my stuff and get out of the way. I went to get my checked bags and walked through customs. A bored looking man gestured me through a green gateway (meaning I didn't have anything to declare).  

I came out and looked around frantically for my cab driver hoping and praying he wasn't gone yet. I didn't see him in front of me and as I turned to my left a man leaning against a counter was saying, “Unless this is her. Are you looking for me?” I started to say maybe and he waved a paper at me that said my name on it. I said yes. He took me out to his cab and helped me put my bags in the back. I almost walked around to the wrong side to get in the front seat, but remembered at the last minute that the driver sits on the other side. We started driving and he was telling me how he didn't expect it to take so long and that he had been working all night and had been about to leave when I came out. I don't think he meant to make me feel bad, I think he was just talking because he was so amazed. I apologized and explained what I could see. We listened to a CD by, I think he said her name was Kylie Minogue (or something like that) for part of the way. I recognized one of the songs. Apparently she's Australian. His CD was well-loved because it kept skipping. We were quiet for long stretches while I just enjoyed looking out the window. It was gray outside so nothing got a particularly flattering light, but it was still fun to look at. The houses were cute. I noticed that his name was John Conroy. Partially because I felt bad for making him wait, because the silence was awkward and because I was genuinely curious I came up with questions to ask him. I asked him about the signs on the side of the road, the weather and the we talked about bikes. I also told him a little about what Oregon is like in comparison to Galway. He was nice about it all and seemed glad to talk to me whenever I came up with a question or a comment. His name was John Conroy. It made me smile in a wry sort of way every time we passed a business I'd see at home. I saw McDonald's, Texaco, Subway, a Best Western (or some big hotel chain like that. It might not've been that one in particular) and a movie theater with all American movies in it. Mr Conroy took me all the way to Gort na Coiribe and even waited while I ran into the office to see if I was in the right place/if I could get a key to my apartment, which was more than he needed to do, particularly since I was two hours later than I was supposed to be (we got there at 10:45 am). The reception people were nice and helpful. They gave me a key and showed me where my apartment was. Mr Conroy helped me get my bags to the door before driving off. I dragged everything inside and went to my room. I was the first person there and my room is a double so I picked the bed and the desk by the window. I started unpacking just enough to take a shower, which was what I wanted most in the world at that point.

Not bad for my first time flying alone, eh? I made it all the way to Galway, even if it was only through pure luck at the end.

P.S. I don't have any pictures of the Shannon airport or the drive to Galway because I was too tired to think straight. Sorry...