…It’s a rock

Not just a rock. A lot of rocks. Literal tons of rocks. Wednesday we set out from Sword—yes, the town was called Sword—for Newgrange in county Meath. The structure of Newgrange itself was pretty cool, especially when they did a demonstration of the sun shining in at Winter Solstice. I took a lot of cool pictures, as per normal. I’m really a photography whore.

After that we went to Slane Monastery made of—shock—stone. I’m a fan of ruins, personally. You just don’t get them in America. We were actually looking for Slane Castle, which we eventually found after missing the exit three times. Technically we weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, like in Malahide Castle Tuesday, but I snapped a few shots after the curator had moved onto the next room.

According to one of the men in the group with us—a lot of elderly people from somewhere across the island—Cian would’ve been great in “Braveheart”, Rudraigh would make a good warrior king, and I would be the perfect Celtic princess. News to nobody.

I keep staring out the window as we drive, trying to grasp the whole concept of being an entire ocean away from California, but it won’t sink in. So far Ireland’s a lot like home: weather’s the same, greenery’s the same, people are the same pretty much everywhere. Two main differences I’ve noticed are that people seem genuinely interested in where you’re from and there aren’t any German tourists back home. Yes, I thought about all the British comedy jokes about German tourists when I heard them.

One thing I’ve noticed that’s the same is the proximity of redheads. This is not, as many Americans believe, a country full of ginger people who can’t go out in the sun longer than five minutes before turning into a lobster. People still stare at me like I’m dancing around dressed like the Chiquita banana lady; only here they maintain eye contact when I stare back.

Either people around the world are this fascinated by redheads, or I’m one hot sucker. I’m banking on the former.

Next, more monasteries and castles. The lady at Mellifont Abbey was really cool; she was a redhead too. We also when to Trim Castle, but just wandered around the grounds since the tour wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. That’s alright; they probably wouldn’t have let me take pictures anyway.

But yes, lots of driving, constancy of getting lost and having to turn around on the tiny Irish dirt roads, and the dwindling apparently lack of my father’s depth perception. We lost both hubcaps on the left side yesterday and I refuse to sit over there now.

Traveller’s Woes

I must admit that I hadn’t really begun to think about the trip I’m currently on until I had to start packing—which was two days ago, mind. I don’t think it’s really sunk in that I’m on my way to another country thousands of miles away from everything I’ve come to know. I have no expectations of Ireland, which may be for the best since I won’t be disappointed.

The thing that must be understood about me as a traveller though—and I cannot really use the word to describe myself as often as I’d like—is that despite my vocalised dislike of people, I have an inexplicable love of airports. Maybe it’s the sense of change and progress; people are always moving forwards, even if they’re going backwards. Sure, the food is generally awful, but you can bring your own iffin you like. I don’t even mind all the security and precautions and warnings of “threat-level, orange”. Except for feeling like a spy having gotten caught by the enemy, having to take off my leather jacket, my belt, my shoes, remove all my jewellery and everything from my pockets, show that my laptop is, in fact, a laptop and is not, in fact, a bomb.

Oh shite, I said bomb. I’m probably about to be tackled by flight attendant and passenger alike for being a terrorist.

What I do not like about travelling is what I’m currently doing: being cramped into an airplane seat for ten hours and having my legs cramp and fall asleep. True, I’ve slept through almost a civil majority of the trip—three-fifths—but the time I have been awake has been nothing but dull and achy. And the only way to remedy the latter is taking a walk to the toilet—which is just as cramped, if not moreso, than this seat. At least I’ve got the window.

The strangest thing so far has been the fact that it hasn’t gotten dark. According to the clock on the screen, it is 11:32, but that’s in California, and I am currently flying over the Atlantic. I’m not exactly sure where over the Atlantic, since there’s nothing but clouds and water below us, but I was delighted to wake up in time to watch us fly over the Arctic.

The voice over the speaker system—the first one I’ve been able to understand—just announced that we’re descending (as if we couldn’t tell) and will be landing in Dublin in about a half-hour, just after 8 a.m. local time. Mind-blowing, really. I’ve completely missed Monday.

And that stewardess who told me she liked my art did not have that accent when we took off. Oh well, chances are I’ll have slipped into it by the end of the day.

Another Reason (or Five) We're All Screwed

Yes I, due to watching too many movies and playing too many video games, and much like my older brother, fear being torn to shred screaming in agony by zombies. This might strike some as a cause to throw me in the loony bin, but thanks to the jerk's searching around the web, there's now legitimate cause for concern, as seen in the link below. Thought I'd spread the knowledge.

Dammit, man, don't tell me these things!

http://www.cracked.com/article_15643_5-scientific-reasons-zombie-apocalypse-could-actually-happen.html

Admiration is an amazing thing

http://www.out.com/detail.asp?page=1&id=23972

Read this. For those of you who aren't familiar, Gabe Saporta is the singer of Cobra Starship, and at this moment, I have nothing but the utmost respect for him. Maybe it's just all the thinking about this subject I've been doing recently, but this really speaks to me.

This is life right here. This is what I want to do, how I want to be. This is the world to me.

Sure we'll die young. All the greats do.

"Chivalry isn't dead. It's chained up in Oprah's basement; she beats it daily."

"Um, I think condoms actually stop evolution."

"That guy is so annoyingly ugly. And just annoying."

"Rhinos don't make that sound."
"That's the sound rhinos make when they bounce. Have you ever heard a rhino bounce?"

"I'm sorry, little candles in big red glass jars mean Jesus!"

"This is like a ninja tea party in here."

"Women wear these."
"Bra?"
"More formal."
"...Bro?"

"BRAIN LIGHTNING!"

"Sure."
"Sure?"
"No."
"No?"
"Don't confuse my hormones. It's bad for everyone's health."

~

You know, it's sort of funny that all the quotes in this one are from or to guys. Little useless piece of information. I'm full of 'em. Also I dunno why I said the Best Of would have three installments. 2008 isn't over and like hell am I pulling a VH1 and reminiscing about a year (or decade) before it's over.